


The Finder

by ConstantWriter85



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Artificial Respiration, Astral Projection, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Bucky Barnes & Sam Wilson Friendship, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Captain America Sam Wilson, Cardiopulmonary Resuscitation, Drowning, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Hurt, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, POV Bucky Barnes, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Protective Avengers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Sam Wilson, Rape Recovery, Romantic Fluff, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Sam Wilson is So Done, Sam Wilson is a little shit, Sexual Abuse, Stephen Strange is a Good Bro, Tactile Telepathy, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Whump, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, astral travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:49:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 26
Words: 84,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24054694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConstantWriter85/pseuds/ConstantWriter85
Summary: Post EndgameUnder the leadership of the new Captain America, Sam Wilson, the Avengers are on the trail of evil mastermind Helmut Zemo after he escapes from prison. While away on a PR trip, Sam asks Bucky to look after the newest member of the Team, a girl with unique abilities and a checkered past. As they work together to track down Zemo, the pair grow close, capturing each other’s heart…and saving each other’s soul.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 193
Kudos: 282





	1. Chapter 1

__

_You hover in the corner of the room, silent even though you know they can’t hear you. Not even if you scream. You have no voice, no body, no form at all—but you can see and hear everything._

_The men are speaking Russian, and you have to strain to keep up. You know several languages, but you’re Russian is a bit rusty._

_They’re gathered in the back room of a London Pub, discussing the upcoming move to the new safehouse. A map is laid out on the table, and you hope they’ll point out the location. The Avengers are counting on your ability to help them track Zemo, and you want to do your best—it’s your first assignment._

_The men lean over the map, and you float a little closer._

*

Bucky hung up the phone, irritated. Sam had asked him to check up on the new girl, to see if she had found out Zemo’s location. He had assured Bucky that she was good, but how she was supposed to find the terrorist without even leaving her room was beyond him—FRIDAY assured Bucky that the new girl hadn’t left her room all day.

Babysitting.

Ugh.

He wasn’t really irritated at the new girl—not really. She seemed like a nice enough person, although he wasn’t really sure what she was doing on the team. Bucky was used to flashy talents and enhancements from Avengers recruits, but he had yet to see anything from her. She was friendly and intelligent, and her snarky comebacks had earned her high praise from Sam. No, if he was being honest, he wasn’t irritated with her at all.

It wasn’t her fault he was still a wanted man and had to lurk behind in the shadows while Sam got to go out and actually _do_ stuff. The fallout from the Blip and the final battle with Thanos hadn’t quite settled yet, there was still the political mess over the Accords, and although the US had pardoned Bucky, there were still many countries out there looking for the Winter Soldier.

Sam assured him he was doing everything he could, but Bucky knew it would still take some time—the new Captain America was in the middle of a PR nightmare, trying to appease the politicians while repairing the image of the New Avengers. It was going well so far, but it would take some time before Bucky could travel freely.

So, instead, he was stuck on babysitting duty.

Great.

He looked down at his cell phone, dialing her number again as he walked towards the elevator. Why wasn’t she answering? He assumed she had left her phone on silent, but he’d been trying to reach her for the last hour. He rarely saw anyone these days go an hour without checking their phone, and he was beginning to get a little worried.

He got out of the elevator and started down the hall, ending the call as it went to voicemail once again. She must have fallen asleep. That had to be it.

Bucky knocked tentatively on her door, then again--a little harder--after there was no answer. Still no answer. Unease settled low in his stomach, and he asked FRIDAY to unlock the door.

He wasn’t prepared for what he saw.

She was laying on her back, on the floor. Her arms rested at her sides, and she was staring up at the ceiling. He called her name, now in a bit of a panic, and stepped in the room.

She didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge his presence in any way. The only sound in the room was the ticking of the wall clock that suddenly seemed much too loud. As he inched closer, he realized she wasn’t looking at the ceiling at all—her eyes were rolled back until only the whites showed.

God—was she even breathing?

Bucky knelt by her side, unease building when he didn't see her chest rise and fall or feel her breath against his cheek. He tried to feel for a pulse at her throat, and when he couldn’t find one there he pressed his hand against the center of her chest, pulling back in panic when he couldn't feel her heart beating either.

 _Oh, shit_.

“FRIDAY, call 9-1-1!” He barked, his training kicking in.

Bucky leaned down over her lifeless body, tilting her head back and opening an airway. He pinched her nose closed, sealed his mouth against hers, and blew deeply into her lungs.

_Oh god, please don't be dead...C'mon, breathe!_

After two breaths he positioned his hands on her chest and started compressions. He pressed down rhythmically over her still heart while his own raced in panic, praying he wasn't too late. 

*

_The men are talking faster now, pointing at the map laid out on the table. One glances up at the clock, noting the time. They are getting ready to leave._

_You hover closer, passing right through one of the men without him noticing. Listens closely as one of the men describe the route, his finger tracing the road on the map. The M-25._

_You’ve got to find out where that safehouse is, and you’re hoping they’ll either point it out or say it’s location, secure in the false knowledge that they’re the only ones in the room._

_You hear the word safehouse, and the man’s finger starts down towards the map._

_As you leans closer, straining for a view, you feel a strange pressure where your chest should be and a rush of air through your nonexistent throat, and suddenly the light is fading and you’re falling, back and back and back…._

_*_

Strong hands press down hard on your chest, and your heart feels like it's going to explode. You gasp for air and shove blindly at the weight on your chest as you scramble to a sitting position. Your mouth feels a little wet and your chest feels sore.

What the hell happened?

You look around for the source of the interruption, and that’s when you see Bucky. He’s sitting on the floor, slumped against your bed and looking like he’s just seen a ghost. His eyes are wide and his mouth is hanging open—he looks so funny you’d burst out laughing if you weren’t so pissed right now.

“Jesus—God! Bucky! What the hell!” You wipe angrily at your mouth and glare at him.

“I…you…you weren’t…” he stuttered, blinking dazedly at you. “Are…are you okay?”

“I’m fine--What the hell was that?! What are you doing in my room?”

Bucky seemed taken aback by your hostility, and his face colors despite his concern.

“Sam told me to check up on you, to see if you’d located the safehouse. I called, you didn’t answer your phone, so I came up here and knocked, you _still_ didn’t answer, so FRIDAY unlocked the door, and you were…I thought—”

“I was astral projecting!” You shout. “I was sooo close! They were about to point out the location of the safehouse, and you—wait—did you try to give me CPR?”

“Yes—I thought you were dead! And what the hell is astral protection?” Bucky was getting mad now, and your shoulders slump, realizing what had happened.

“Sam didn’t tell you what my abilities were?” You ask quietly. Your sudden change in tone seems to calm him, and he shakes his head.

Groaning, you rubbed your aching chest--that explained it. You ran a hand over your face with a sigh. You were going to kill Sam.

Bucky continued to stare at you, his eyes still wide and scared, but concern was starting to seep in. You suddenly are aware of how you must look—sitting on the floor in leggings and a tee, hair messy from Bucky’s efforts—and you make an attempt to straighten your clothing and fix your hair, pulling it back in a loose braid.

Of course, it had to be Bucky. A handsome former assassin, built like a Greek god, gorgeous blue eyes looking at you with fear and concern after he just tried to save your life—and you yelled at him. You’re a little embarrassed, and still a little irritated, but you owe him an explanation—it wasn’t his fault.

“It’s astral _projection_ , not astral protection. It means I can leave my body and travel basically anywhere, see and hear anything. I was in London, in the back room at a pub, and there were a couple of Zemo’s thugs discussing transportation to the new safehouse. My body was here, but the rest of me was there. I guess it looks a little freaky if you don’t know what’s going on,” you explain, giving him a reassuring smile.

“So…you’re really okay?” he asks, sitting up straighter.

“Yeah Bucky. A little sore, but I’m really okay…I’m sorry I yelled at you.” You were still mortified, but he seemed to have relaxed.

Bucky nods. “FRIDAY, can you cancel the ambulance?”

“Already done, boss,” the AI answered.

“You called an ambulance?” you squeak, your face coloring in embarrassment. “Christ!”

“What the hell was I supposed to do? Your heart stopped. You weren’t breathing, your eyes were rolled way back—” his temper flares again, and he glares at you as if it was somehow your fault.

You shake your head, smirking at his anger. He was cute when he was all fired up.

“Bucky, my heart didn’t stop. When I project, my body kind of goes into hibernation mode, and my heartrate and breathing slow way down. When you tried to give me CPR it was a little jarring, because I was perfectly fine, and it brought me back here a little suddenly—that’s why I was so mad,” you explain. “And for the record, you should probably check for more than two seconds to see if someone’s dead.”

“I did—you scared the shit out of me,” he said, eyes narrowed as if he didn’t believe you.

“I’m going to kick Sam’s ass for not telling you beforehand—I’m sorry I scared you, Bucky.”

“It’s okay…I’m just glad you’re all right,” he said. “So…I kinda messed things up here, huh?”

“Not really,” you said, trying to reassure him. Now it was his turn to look embarrassed. “I’ve got a general location…a good place to start looking. I’m actually going to go check to see if they’re still at the pub—probably not, but I’m going to try anyway.”

“What—now?”

“Yeah…it’s literal traveling, in real time—not time traveling,” you explain with a dry laugh.

“Can I stay and watch?” His face colored slightly as if he was embarrassed to ask. He still didn’t believe you, and the fact that he wanted to watch over you to make sure you were okay gave you butterflies. You smiled at him reassuringly.

“If it makes you feel better about everything, yes. Although, won’t be much to see from your perspective.”

You settle yourself on the floor, arms at your sides. Bucky sits cross-legged a short distance from you, looking at you like you were about to spontaneously combust. You chuckle to yourself as you look up at the ceiling and clear your mind.

*

Bucky watched as the girl lay back on the floor, once again staring up at the ceiling. She just lay there for a couple minutes, breathing slowly and evenly. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, her body relaxing completely as her eyes rolled back.

It was unnerving to watch.

The minutes ticked by. She lay so still that Bucky began to get a little concerned, despite what he had been told. Tentatively, he reached out a hand and laid it gently over her heart. He felt nothing for the longest time and his anxiety started to build when he felt the slight flutter of a heartbeat under his fingers.

He waited, and there it was again. Pressing a little harder, he realized he could also feel an almost imperceptibly shallow rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. Her heartrate and breathing were so weak and shallow they were almost nonexistent. He wasn’t sure how some could survive like that, but then again he wasn't sure how someone could "leave their body" either.

Satisfied that she was okay, Bucky leaned back against the bed. He felt exhausted by the rush of emotions and adrenaline in the past hour. She had truly scared the shit out of him, and that didn’t happen often.

He stared at her motionless body, waiting for her to wake—he felt like someone should be watching over her when she was like this. Even though she was fine, she still seemed really vulnerable and defenseless when she was astral whatevering, and he made a mental note to tell Sam she shouldn’t be doing this alone.

Now that he thought about it, she was really quite pretty—if you didn’t take in the freaky eyes when she was like this. She was tall, but her body was toned and lithe. Flawless skin was broken only by a scattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose and cheekbones, and her ebony hair was gathered in a loose braid. Her lips were slightly parted, and he found himself wondering what she smelled like…what she tasted like.

He shook himself, feeling uncomfortable and embarrassed all of a sudden. He barely knew her--that kind of thinking was not really appropriate under any circumstances, and definitely not appropriate given their current situation. It felt suddenly hot in the room to Bucky, and he shifted uncomfortably, hoping she would wake up soon.

What the hell was wrong with him?

She suddenly took a deep breath, her eyes normalizing as she sat up slowly.

Thank god.

Bucky cleared his throat, trying to act nonchalant. “Were they still there?”

“No,” she sighed, “but that’s okay. I waited for a bit to see if anyone would come back, but they’re gone. I’ve got a general location to start with, I’ll tell Sam when he comes back.”

“I’m really sorry, Y/N. You would’ve had them if it wasn’t for me.”

She laughed. “It’s okay, Bucky, it wasn’t your fault. Do you feel better?”

“I do…you were right, everything was fine. A little unnerving to watch, but fine.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. He felt like he should say or do something—here she was trying to reassure him when he was the one who had screwed thing up in the first place. He was going to kill Sam.

Even though it wasn’t his fault, he still felt bad for bursting into her private room, manhandling her and ruining her op. She looked like she was over it—hell, he probably startled her more than anything—but it still wasn’t a great way to start. In the past, he had just pushed people away, but he was really trying to be better about letting people in.

He shifted uncomfortably, looking sideways at her uncertainly.

“So, uh…That wore me out, and I didn’t even do anything…um, can I bring you some coffee, or something?”

She smiled at him. “That sounds great—I’m pretty tired. I’ll come with you, though…I need to get out of this room. I feel like a hermit.”

Bucky chuckled as he helped her up from the floor. He was ready to get out of this room too.


	2. Chapter 2

**Two Weeks ago**

“Sam, what’re we doin’ here?” Bucky asked as they approached the bar. It was a perfect fall night in Boston, the air cool and crisp as it blew discarded leaves down the gutters.

The bar was housed in a renovated fire house—pretty typical for this district. Differing genres of music blasted from each entrance they passed, and Bucky was painfully reminded of how much things had changed since 1940. Back then, everything was jazz—you knew all the songs, and you could dance to it. He wasn’t sure what half of the stuff playing was, but it sure wasn’t music.

The Bearded Dog--that was the name of the bar.

What did that even mean?

He was about to ask Sam again, when they reached the end of the line. The soldier pulled out his wallet and motioned for Bucky to do the same.

“We’re here to scout out a new prospect—I don’t have an address or anything, just that she’s a bartender here. Get your ID out.”

“ID…yeah, that’s a laugh,” Bucky snorted. His ID said thirty-five, but he was well over a hundred years old.

“Just be chill, man. I know this isn’t your scene, but if this chick can do half of what I’m told, we really need her.”

Bucky was silent a moment as they stepped up to the bouncer, handed over their ID’s and were ushered inside. The interior was dimly lit, exterior neon lighting providing most of the illumination. Tables were clustered around the walls of both levels with a wide dance floor in the center. A live band was onstage blasting loud bluesy rock music as couples grinded together on the dance floor—to Bucky’s old-fashioned sensibilities it seemed almost erotic.

At least the music wasn’t half bad.

“I don’t see her, she must be working the upper bar,” Sam said, scouting the long bar on the lower level. Bucky followed him up the stairs, pushing past tattooed hipsters and girls in miniskirts.

Finally, they reached the upper level—at least it was quieter up here. Sam sidled up to the bar, evaluating the bartenders.

“There she is,” he said, pointing out a tall woman at the end of the bar. Her long black hair was knotted loosely in a braid at her shoulder. She wore skinny jeans and a band tee, one he hadn’t heard of—The Heavy. Her left arm was covered in tattoos—almost down to the wrist—and they were so intricate he couldn’t make out what they were in the dim light.

He watched as she expertly poured a tall draft from the tap, handing it to a patron with a smile. She was very pretty. She wore little makeup, but her eyes were lined with smokey eyeliner, giving her an exotic look. Not really his type, he thought, yet he was unable to take his eyes off her.

Sam caught her attention, and she moved with a dancer’s grace down to their end of the bar.

“What’ll it be, guys?” She asked, her chin jutting out almost as if in challenge. Her hazel eyes raked over them both, hesitating a moment on him before settling on Sam.

“I’ll have a Jack and Coke,” he said, looking over at Bucky.

“Bourbon…neat,” he said. It didn’t really matter. He couldn’t get drunk anymore thanks to the serum, but he still liked the taste.

She got their drinks, setting them down on the bar with a friendly smile. Sam handed her his card, opening a tab as Bucky leaned back against the bar. His eyes scanned the crowd as he surveyed the other patrons with practiced appraisal.

“Let me guess…you’re from upstate, business trip, and your friend here drug you out tonight against your will.”

Sam burst out laughing as Bucky slowly turned around. The girl was smirking at him as she unloaded the dishwasher, polishing the glasses before setting them back on the shelf. Bucky felt his face flush, but she wasn’t making fun at him—just making conversation like all bartenders did.

She had a nice smile.

“Is it that obvious?” He asked, taking a sip of his drink.

“I’m a good guesser. And you look like you don’t want to be here.”

“That’s a pretty good guess,” he said, his eyes flashing.

Was that a hint of blush he saw creeping up her cheeks?

“I hear you’re also a finder,” Sam said, looking at her seriously now. The mood was broken, and the girl was silent for a moment, polishing the glass in her hand thoughtfully.

“That depends on who’s doing the asking.” She glanced at them both. “You guys cops?”

She seemed suddenly nervous, and Bucky wondered what her background was—what had brought her to this bar.

Sam handed her his card. “Of a sort.”

The girl glanced down at the card, then back up at Sam as her eyebrows raised in recognition.

“Wait—I know you. You’re the new…what do the—what do you guys want with _me_?”

“Finding,” Sam replied cryptically. “And if you can help us out, we may have a job for you. Is there a place we can talk?”

The girl looked up at the clock, then back at Sam before nodding.

“Jimmy, I’m taking my break,” she called to the other bartender before moving out from behind the bar and motioning for Sam to follow her.

“Wait here?” Sam asked him. Bucky grit his teeth but waved him on.

_What the hell am I even doing here, then?_

He was more than a little frustrated with Sam. Once again, he was pushed to the sidelines while Sam shouldered the burden. He was a grown-ass man, perfectly capable of handling himself, yet Sam treated him like a liability.

Like someone who couldn’t be trusted.

He wondered if Sam was still unsure of him—if he thought the Winter Soldier programming would take over. Sam constantly babied him, keeping him in the dark and only calling on him when he needed some company or some heavy muscle where collateral damage didn’t matter.

Bucky _still_ had no idea what the hell they were doing here…why they needed this girl so badly. Sam had said she was good at finding things—that was all. They were still on Zemo’s trail after he had escaped from the secure facility in Bucharest. Zemo had taken more away from Bucky than any Avenger, and it hurt that Sam kept him away like this.

He took another sip of his drink, wishing it would have some effect on him. After what seemed like an eternity, Sam and the girl emerged from the back room.

“Give me a call tomorrow, we’ll get you moved upstate and into the facility. You’ll be taken care of, but you’re going to have to quit your job here.”

The girl shrugged indifferently. “It’s not a big loss for me,” she said, glancing around at the bar.

Sam smirked and nodded, and he and Bucky headed towards the exit.

“So?” Bucky asked pointedly.

“She’s good,” Sam replied cryptically.

Bucky snorted. “Which means what, exactly?”

“Dude, we just got the location of Zemo’s safehouse in Koblenz, Germany.”

“And how the hell did she do that in the back room of a bar?”

“She’s good.”

Bucky just growled and shook his head.

***

**Present Day**

The coffee smells wonderful, and you breathe deeply, the rich aroma reviving you on scent alone. It’s late-afternoon, and the light is almost golden as it streams through the large windows behind you. The view is breathtaking—slow rolling hills that give way to lush forests, a small lake glittering off in the distance.

Bucky stands across from you, his hair tied back and looking a lot better than he had on the floor of your room. At least the color has returned to his face. You try not to stare as he makes the coffee, moving with a quiet grace that betrayed immense power. He hands you a cup, a warm smile lighting up his boyish face, before returning to his own mug and adding a startling amount of sugar.

“Thanks Bucky.”

“Hey, it’s the least I could do.”

You chuckle. “I already told you, it wasn’t your fault.”

“You’re right…it’s Sam’s,” he says, his brow wrinkling in annoyance. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of him. I’ve had about enough of him keeping me in the dark with everything.”

You’re confused. “I thought you two were partners?”

Bucky is silent a minute, chewing his bottom lip thoughtfully as if debating whether or not he should continue.

“We are…or at least, we’re supposed to be. I…come with a lot of baggage, and a bit of a notorious history. Sam’s trying, but I don’t think he really trusts me yet.”

His words surprise you. You know who he is of course—the Winter Soldier—and you know of the horrible things he had been made to do under Hydra’s influence. You had grown up learning about the first Captain America, Steve Rogers, and his best friend Bucky Barnes in history class, and you had always seen Bucky as a tragic figure rather than a mindless killing machine. It bothers you that even after all these years, after he had tried so hard to redeem himself, his friend and partner still kept him at arm’s length.

You place your hand on his. “I trust you.”

Bucky freezes at your words, looking up at you in shock. “You don’t even know me,” he murmurs.

“And you don’t know me,” you begin, curling your fingers around his hand. “But that still didn’t stop you from trying to save my life when you thought I was in trouble. It didn’t stop you from worrying about me and watching over me. That’s more than most people have done for me in my life, and more than enough to earn my trust.”

Bucky doesn’t seem to know what to say to that. He just looks at you, his face inscrutable. It wasn’t a lie; to say you hadn’t met a lot of people you could trust would be the understatement of the year, and what Bucky had done (or tried to do) for you that afternoon was the most solid thing anyone had done for you in a long time. Despite his gruff exterior, you sense a kind and gentle soul…a good man you can trust.

Bucky is standing very still, his metal hand griping his mug tightly, and you decide to try to switch topics before he breaks it—this is getting too heavy.

“So…where is everybody?” You ask.

Bucky clears his throat, looking grateful for the distraction. “Sam’s meeting with Secretary Ross, updating him on the Zemo situation.” He pauses, looking around at the empty hallway. “These are the living quarters, and there aren’t many people who live at the Facility anymore. I’m guessing most everyone else is either in the office tower or on their way home.”

“Why do you live here? I mean, why don’t you have your own place?”

Bucky looks down at the counter and shifts uncomfortably. “It’s safer for me here. I may have been pardoned by the US government, but there’s a lot of people who still…they still hold me responsible…”

Shit.

Once again, you had found your way back to the subject of the Winter Soldier. You have to fix this.

“Hey, um…I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable or anything by bringing up your past. I…I know what it’s like to run from your past…to be ashamed of things you did…mistakes you made…”

Bucky’s head snaps up and he looks at you sharply, with curiosity. He doesn’t press the matter, though, and you’re grateful.

You’re definitely not ready to talk about your past yet.

“So…that astral whatevering…is that what you did for Sam back at the bar in Boston? How you got the location of the first safehouse in Germany?” Bucky seems just as eager to change the topic as you.

“Astral projection,” you say with a smirk. “and no, so far you’re the only one who’s seen me do that. I have lots of ways of finding things.”

“Like what?” He seems honestly curious now.

“Uh…I can show you one if you want. It’s a lot more exciting to watch than projection, I promise.”

“Okay, yeah,” Bucky says, looking excited.

You get up to rummage through the drawers in the kitchen, finally finding some paper and a pencil while he watches you curiously.

“Do you have anything of sentimental value—something with a story to it? I can do it with anything, but it’s a lot cooler with something that has a story to it.”

Bucky looks down, thinking for a moment before digging in the pocket of his jeans. He pulls out a small, round object, staring at it briefly before handing it to you.

You don’t even look at it, you just close it in your fist, settling down at the kitchen island, paper and pencil in front of you. Bucky looks at you expectantly, like a child waiting for a magician to perform a trick.

Well, he wasn’t far from wrong.

“Okay…here we go.”

***

Bucky didn’t know why he handed her Steve’s compass—it wasn’t like Steve needed to be found. He wasn’t here anymore, and that was that. But when she asked for something sentimental, something with a story to it, that was the first thing he thought of. That compass had seen more history than most people.

He watched as she settled herself at the island, compass clutched in one hand and the pencil in the other. He had never seen anything like what she could do; he had never even heard of a “Finder” before. He was excited, but at the same time he sincerely hoped she didn’t go into a trance like last time.

“Okay…here we go.”

The girl closed her eyes and was silent for a moment, her brow furrowed in concentration. She gripped the pencil tightly and tilted her head, as if listening to something.

Suddenly, the pencil launched into motion, moving quickly across the page. Her hand was the only thing moving as she clutched the compass tightly and held down the paper with her forearm. Bucky leaned over her shoulder, trying to see what she was drawing, and was surprised to see that her eyes were still shut tightly.

She wasn’t even looking at what she was drawing.

_“Buck…you okay?”_

Bucky almost fell off his stool and was about to answer her when she spoke again.

_“Right as rain, Stevie. Why…what’s eatin’ ya? You got that look on your face again.”_

Bucky’s heart stopped cold in his chest.

_“Don’t sass me, jerk…why’re you up here and not Dum Dum?”_

_“He was dead on his feet. Told him I’d take his watch so he could get some shut-eye…don’t worry about it.”_

_“Yeah, well I am worrying about it. You’re dead on your feet too, Buck…you’ve been taking the fella’s watches all week. When’s the last time you slept?”_

_“What’re you, my Ma now?”_

Bucky let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, and the world seemed to spin for a moment. He looked down at the paper.

He knew what she was drawing.

_“I’m just worried about you, Buck. You’ve been pushing it too hard…you need to sleep.”_

_“Can’t sleep…don’t want to…”_

_“Bucky…Bucky, look at me. What happened back at Zola’s lab…what did they do to you?”_

The girl scribbled something at the bottom of the page and violently shoved the drawing away from her. She settled over the stack of papers and began to draw again.

Bucky picked up the drawing with shaking hands. Scribbled at the bottom were the words:

SCHRAMBERG, GERMANY. 1944.

Above the words was a shockingly realistic sketch of two men, hunched near a window. It was Steve…Steve and him. They had stopped for the night at an abandoned barn, and Bucky was taking the first watch from a window in the hayloft. A rifle was perched across his knees, and he could see the compass dangling from Steve’s hands. He could see the worry in Steve’s face and the darkness in his own eyes.

There was no way she could have known about this.

_“Remember when I made you ride the cyclone at Coney Island?”_

Her words jerked him back to reality.

_“Yeah…and I threw up?”_

Bucky was starting to hear the subtle nuances in her voice as she shifted between speakers. He glanced down at the drawing, where the outline of two men standing on a cliffside was beginning to form. He swallowed thickly.

_“This isn’t payback, is it?”_

_“Now why would I do that?”_

_“We were right…Dr. Zola’s on the train. Hydra dispatcher gave him permission to open up the throttle. Wherever he’s going, they must need him bad.”_

_“Let’s get going, because they’re moving like the devil.”_

Bucky almost laughed out loud, hearing Falsworth’s stuffy British accent coming from her mouth, but he sobered quickly, knowing where this memory led.

_“We only got about a ten-second window—you miss that window, we’re bugs on a windshield.”_

_“Mind the gap.”_

_“Better get movin’, bugs.”_

A scribble at the bottom, and that drawing was pushed away as well as she bent over the papers again. Bucky snatched the drawing up. ACHENWALD, AUSTRIA, 1945, was printed at the bottom of this drawing.

Bucky hadn’t even known the name of the place where they had jumped on the train.

It was a beautiful sketch of Steve and him, standing on the cliff’s edge moments before they rode the zip line down to the speeding Hydra train. Steve was smiling fondly at him, one hand on Bucky’s shoulder, the compass open in his other. Bucky’s back was to the viewer in this drawing, but his head was cocked to the side, smirking over at Steve.

Bucky felt his eyes start to burn.

Y/N was drawing again, the pencil scribbling furiously over the paper.

_“You know, if you want, I could come with you.”_

_“You’re a good man, Sam…this one’s on me, though.”_

Bucky froze; he knew where this memory was leading as well. He wiped at his face and settled into the seat next to her, watching as she drew.

_“Don’t do anything stupid ‘til I get back.”_

_“How can I…you’re taking all the stupid with you.”_

_“Bucky…I…”_

_“It’s okay Steve…I know.”_

Tears were flowing freely now. He could already see what the finished drawing would be—Steve pressing the compass into Bucky’s hands.

Saying goodbye.

_“Gonna miss you buddy.”_

_“It’s gonna be okay, Buck.”_

The girl dropped the pencil suddenly and released the compass, staring at the paper. She was breathing heavily and seemed afraid to look at him. Bucky let out a shuddering breath and wiped his face.

“Bucky, I…I’m so sorry,” she said, finally turning to look at him and seeing the tears he knew were still visible. “That was way to personal…I didn’t think. I…I should’ve—”

Her words were cut off as he swept her up in a tight hug, nearly crushing her as his emotions bubbled over.

“Thank you,” he whispered. The girl froze momentarily before relaxing in his embrace, and he gripped her tighter, resting his chin on her shoulder.

He released her, sitting back down and running his hands through his hair. The girl was still looking uncertainly at him, her face slightly flushed. Bucky let out a breathy chuckle.

“That was amazing, Y/N. I…” He looked down at the drawings. “Can I keep these?”

“Sure…if you want…”

Bucky looked down at the picture of Steve and him on the cliffside. “These are really good,” he said, running his fingers over the faces. “I’d forgotten some of this. I…sometimes I have trouble remembering things…Can you always draw like this, or is it the…Finding?”

“Um…maybe not quite as good as that, but I’ve always been a pretty good artist. I don’t really know what I’m saying or drawing when I’m Finding, I just…let the memories channel through me.”

“So, it’s like…you can see the memories of wherever that object has been?”

The girl pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I don’t know…it’s not really an exact science. I don’t even know how or why I can do it, I’ve just always been able to. Sometimes there’s not much to go on, but sometimes, like with the compass, there’s a lot.”

“So there’s more?” Bucky asked eagerly. He wanted to ask her to keep going, but she already looked really tired. She started to open her mouth, but he cut her off.

“Hey—don’t worry about it, maybe another time. You look wore out.”

“Yeah, I’m a little tired…I think I might go lay down for a bit. It’s been a while since I’ve done this much Finding, and I’m rustier than I thought,” she said with a dry laugh as she stood to leave.

“Hey…Y/N? Thanks for this.” He gestured to the drawings on the counter. “And for what you said earlier…For trusting me.”

She turned and gave him a brief but warm hug. “Anytime, Bucky. I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah.”

Bucky watched her as she walked down the hall towards her room. She was an extraordinary woman, and for once he was actually glad Sam had left him behind today. He sat back at the counter, running his fingers lightly over the drawings.

_“That’s more than most people have done for me in my life, and more than enough to earn my trust.”_

Bucky wasn’t used to people trusting him so quickly, but she seemed genuine. He remembered how her eyes had clouded over when she mentioned her past, and he wondered what her life had been like to make him seem like such a trustworthy character—she clearly had a few demons of her own.

His phone buzzed, and he pulled it out with a sigh.

_Sam: On my way back…how’d it go today?_

_Bucky: Pretty good she got a gen location of the safehouse_

_Sam: No address?_

_Bucky: No but its enough for a start._

_Bucky: And its your fault she didnt get the address_

_Sam: How u figure that?_

_Bucky: Tell you when you get here._

_Bucky: I may owe you a punch in the face_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I think I finally have a direction for this story, and I'm pretty excited about it. I've renamed it, I struggle with titles and I felt like "The Finder" worked better than "Astral Existence." There's a bit of friction between Sam and Bucky, I felt like that's something they've got to work out here, and Bucky's also going to have to work through Steve choosing to leave him for Peggy. This Bucky is how I would imagine he would feel post-endgame--he's not as mentally fragile as he was previously, and he's trying to get back out there, but at the same time he feels abandoned. He may have a better handle on his past, but it will still haunt him--as he said, not everyone will be able to forgive his crimes. Maybe the Reader will be able to help him with this as well.
> 
> We found out that Reader has a bit of a dark and checkered past, maybe tied to her abilities as a Finder. She doesn't know how she can do what she does, but I can tell you it will be explained eventually. 
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading! Please leave comments and/or kudos--let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky confronts Sam and he bonds with the Reader.

Sam looked down at the phone in his hand and grit his teeth as he read Bucky’s last message for probably the twentieth time in the last hour.

Great—just what he needed, a fight with Barnes.

He was wiped. The meeting with Secretary Ross hadn’t gone well; the man was as prickly as ever, and Sam just wasn’t as well versed in political debates as he would have liked to be. When he was approached by Nick Fury about the reformation of SHIELD around the New Avengers, he had _thought_ Fury would be running point on PR and politics. When he realized that wasn’t going to be the case, Fury had offered him little sympathy.

“Heavy lies the head that wears the crown…Captain.”

He supposed Fury was right. The man had all the personality and subtlety of a hand grenade, and Barnes wasn’t much better. Wanda was still a wreck, Parker was too young, and Banner was too wrapped up in his own hype to deal with anything less than an emergency. And here he was, an all-American boy, the fresh new face behind the Captain America shield everyone had come to know and trust.

If only it were that easy.

He settled himself further back in the luxurious chair, politely nodding as the stewardess informed him they’d be touching down soon. One nice thing about all this travel—private jets and hot stewardesses.

Sam looked down at his phone again, wondering was Barnes’ problem was this time. He supposed this argument was a long time coming--Barnes had been withdrawn ever since Steve left, his moods alternating between irritated and depressed. Sam knew Steve’s decision had hurt him deeply.

His relationship with the hundred-year-old super-soldier had been tenuous at best, and it had only seemed to go downhill since Steve handed him the shield. If he had to be honest with himself, Sam still found it hard to completely forget Barnes’ past as the Winter Soldier. The man was moody and dangerous; someone who couldn’t be trusted completely yet.

So he had sidelined Barnes until he could get his shit together.

Sam jerked in his seat as the jet touched down on the tarmac and idled over to the hangar at the Avenger’s Facility. He collected his bag and headed over to the main building, wanting only to fall asleep in his nice soft bed and knowing that it wasn’t going to happen.

Because Barnes was waiting for him, and he didn’t look happy.

“So how’d the conference go?” he asked as Sam dropped his bag unceremoniously on the floor and collapsed onto the couch.

“It went fine.”

“What happened? Did Ross say anything?”

Sam was irritated. “Are we just going to sit here and do this all night? You gonna punch me in the face now, or are you gonna talk me to death first?”

Barnes sniffed, the corners of his mouth turning up in a dry smile. “See…this right here is what I have a problem with. You. Keeping me in the dark—about everything.”

“Man, I am not in the mood to talk about this righ—”

“Yeah, well too bad pal because we’re _gonna_ talk about it. Your keeping me in the dark ruined an op and almost got someone killed today.” Barnes stared coldly at him, his jaw clenched.

Sam felt heat rise to his face. “What’re you talking about?”

“Y/N. You told me to watch over her, but you never told me about her abilities—about what she was doing, or how she was doing it.”

“What happened? Is she okay?” Sam leaned forward, worried now.

“She’s fine, but I went to check on her and I…have you _seen_ what happens when she astral projects?”

“Yeah, I was there when she first arrived at the Facility, she traveled to find the pub in London and…oh, shit.”

Bucky’s lips thinned to nothing. “Oh shit is right. I thought she was dead. I…I tried to give her CPR. I could’ve stopped her heart...could've really hurt her.”

“She’s okay though?”

“Yeah, she’s fine…she’s actually really nice, she showed me what she could do…explained it to me.” His gaze hardened. “ _She_ actually treated me like a human being instead of a bipolar liability.”

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Barnes…”

“You can call me Bucky, you know.”

“Bucky,” he corrected, “Look—I know you were hurt by Steve’s decision to stay in the past…and his decision to give me the shield…”

“Is _that_ what you think this is about?” Bucky was looking at him, confused. “You can have that shield—I want nothing to do with it.” He paused for a moment, looking at the shield as though it offended him on a personal level.

“All I ever wanted was to live my life, best friends with Steve, both of us find the loves of our lives and settle down. Grow old together, you know? But the war happened—I was drafted—and Steve, he could never back down from a fight. He became Captain America, and it was like a little part of that skinny kid from Brooklyn who was too dumb run away from a fight died. That was _my_ Steve.

“After becoming Captain America, he changed. Steve had to walk the line. I get that. That shield has always stood between us, and I knew long ago I was never going to truly get my friend back. So you can have it—I never wanted it.” Bucky sniffed and was silent a moment before looking Sam dead in the eye.

“All of the people I knew from before the war are gone. And now half of the people I knew from this life are gone too…and here you are, one of the only friends I have left, and you’re pushing me away. You don’t trust me…I can tell…and it hurts.”

Sam didn’t know what to say. He felt like such a jerk—he had gotten it all wrong.

“You wanna know something?” he chuckled bitterly, “I don’t want the damn thing either. Everything was so much easier when I was just the Falcon—all this PR and politics bullshit—I don’t know how Steve did it. It’s driving me crazy.”

“Then lean on me. Give me something to do. Look—I know I’m wanted in about a dozen countries, but I’m not useless. I can help.”

Sam nodded. “You said Y/N got a general location of the safehouse?”

“Yeah…it’s somewhere in London.”

Sam was silent, weighing his options. Y/N would have to go to there, of course, to continue following the trail…but she was untested in the field. He had read her file and knew she came from a rough background, there was no doubt in his mind she could handle herself in a scuffle, but what about a combat scenario? What if Zemo’s goons got the drop on her?

He would have to trust Bucky. Maybe this could even repair some of the damage done to their friendship.

“Go with her, Bucky—you’re not wanted in England. Protect her…track down that safehouse and see where it leads.”

“You serious?”

Sam smirked. “If there’s one thing I know you can do, it’s kick some ass. I’ll feel a lot better sending Y/N over to London with you to watch out for her.” He was silent a moment. “Buck?”

Bucky’s head snapped up hearing Steve’s nickname for him.

“I’m sorry…I’m sorry I pushed you to the side, and I’m sorry I hurt you.”

Bucky smiled, and for once it was genuine. “It’s okay Sam. I know I come with a lot of baggage and can be difficult. Are we okay?”

“We’re good, man,” Sam chuckled and wiped his face tiredly. “Now, if you don’t mind, that meeting kicked my ass and I seriously need to hit the sack.”

*

There was a knock at your door, and you called out to FRIDAY to see who it was.

“Miss Y/L/N, Sergeant Barnes is waiting outside your door.”

You swore under your breath and hastily finished toweling off your hair. You had overslept, and now you were running behind.

“Just a sec!” You quickly pulled on your jeans and boots, throwing on a slim button-down over your tank before hurrying over to the door.

You pulled it open and there he was, looking way too good for six in the morning. Bucky was leaned against your doorframe, hands shoved in the pockets of his leather jacket. His blue eyes sparkled, and he smirked as he took in your still-damp hair.

“What, did you just get up?”

“Yeah…sorry,” you huffed, “I overslept. I guess I was more tired than I thought. I’m almost ready to go, though.”

“It’s no rush,” Bucky chuckled. “It’s a private jet…they’ll leave when we’re ready.”

You hastily fumbled with buttons on your shirt and the smile dropped from his face as his eyes were drawn to the large bruise over your heart from where he had pressed down on your chest. The color drained from his face.

“I _did_ hurt you,” he said, taking a step back. “I’m so sor—"

You gripped his arm tightly, silencing him. “Don’t say it—we talked about this yesterday. I’m just fine, Bucky.” You smiled reassuringly at him and finished buttoning the shirt, hiding the bruise from view.

Bucky nodded sheepishly and stood to the side as you bustled around the room, hurriedly shoving things in your backpack. He picked up a couple of the books on your desk and paged through them as you finished packing. You could tell he was just trying to give you some space, but you could see him watching you out of the corner of his eye and you blushed self-consciously.

When Sam had told you about the plan to send you both to London to track down the safehouse you almost hadn’t believed him. You never had the chance to travel much before, and the prospect of getting to travel to a foreign country on an actual mission excited you. You felt like you were finally doing something good with your life.

You were also glad Bucky was coming. You had only known him a couple of days, but his blunt honesty and kind demeanor put you at ease in a way not many people had. You considered him a friend, and you felt safe with hi. Although you were more than capable of handling yourself, the people you might meet were a different class altogether. It didn’t look like much would get past Bucky, though. He wore jeans and a Henley that only accentuated his sculpted physique, and you suspected his leather jacket held concealed several ballistics panels and weapons.

Your silent appraisal of Bucky had left your face tingling and a building heat in your stomach. Mentally shaking yourself, you tied your hair back and threw on your jacket.

“Okay, I’m ready,” you announced as you swung your backpack over your shoulder.

Bucky looked at you questioningly. “That’s all you’re bringing?”

“What else should I bring? Looks like you’ll be doing all the heavy lifting anyways,” you said as you nudged his duffle bag with your toe. “What is that…a bag of guns?”

Bucky laughed. “Among other things. You’re fine…I’m just used to dames bringing pretty much their entire closet with.”

“I travel light,” you shrugged and stepped out in the hall. Bucky stopped you with a hand on your elbow.

“Almost forgot…I’ve got something for you.” He dug in his pocket and handed a small sheathed knife to you. “Do you know how to use one of those?”

“A little…no formal training, though.”

He nodded. “I know this is a bit rushed…usually we put new recruits through a training program, but we don’t have that kind of time. Still, I want to make sure you can defend yourself and get away if something happens to me.”

You start to protest, and he squeezed your elbow gently. “ _Not_ that it’s going to happen. I just want to go through some basic defensive moves with you later, see what your background is. I want you to be prepared.”

This was a different side to him. He was serious and confident, his blue eyes boring into yours with intensity. This was protective Bucky.

“Put it in your boot,” he said, pointing to the knife. “I’m glad you wore those, they’re durable and protect your ankles better than shoes.” He nodded approvingly, taking in your appearance. “Jeans and layers…good choice, I like where your head’s at. Okay, let’s go.”

He swung the duffle bag over his shoulder and took off at a brisk pace. You stretched your long legs and matched him, stride for stride. Bucky seemed to be excited—you didn’t blame him, after being cooped up in the Avengers Facility for weeks on end you’d be excited too.

“So, you worked things out with Sam last night?” you asked.

“Yeah, we worked it out,” he chuckled dryly. “Turns out me almost killing you was just the push we needed to finally talk about things, and it turned out to be just a big miscommunication anyway.”

“Bucky—”

“No, really. It was a stupid mistake on my part that could have been avoided if I had just talked to Sam instead of stewing in my own anger. I’m not really that good at talking about how I feel with people.”

“You seem to be doing all right.”

Bucky paused and regarded you for a moment. “You’re…different.”

Despite his neutral tone, you felt heat rush to your face. “Well, you’re different from the kind of guys I’m used to dealing with too.” You start off towards the hangar with a little smile on your face. “That’s why I like you, Bucky.”

*

_That’s why I like you, Bucky._

Those words shouldn’t have affected him as much as they did. He was there to protect her, and instead his head was swimming like a fifteen-year-old schoolboy. Her jeans hugged her figure attractively, and his breath hitched as he watched her hips sway as she climbed into the jet. Bucky shook his head--he would have to get his shit together, and soon.

Bucky had never met anyone like her. Y/N was funny and kind, with an open honesty that was refreshing. She trusted him without a second thought, yet he knew that her trust didn’t come easily—it wasn’t something she was used to giving. She seemed like a happy person, but he could see a quiet sadness lurking in the depths of her eyes. Like his own, her eyes had seen pain and suffering; he only wished he could take it away…to wrap her in his arms and shield her from every bad thing in this world.

Y/N had already settled herself in one of the plush seats, and he respectfully chose one across the aisle from her. The pilot closed the loading ramp and fired up the engines, and Bucky pulled out one of his journals from his backpack, opening it to a fresh page. He would have much preferred to use the Quinjet—it was faster—but they couldn’t exactly just leave the Quinjet while they roamed London searching for the safehouse.

He jotted down some memories in this notebook, glancing out of the corner of his eye at Y/N. She was reading, and the book was so old and worn he couldn’t even make out the title.

“What are you reading?” he asked.

She blushed self-consciously. “ _From the Earth to the Moon_ , by Jules Verne…I’m a bit of a space geek, it’s one of my favorites.”

Bucky’s mouth snapped shut as he realized he had been staring. “Are you kidding me? That’s one of my favorites too--I’ve always loved science and space.”

Y/N chucked at his enthusiasm. “Me too…I think I would’ve gone into astronomy, maybe worked at NASA if things had been different.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“It…it just wasn’t an option for me,” she said, her face clouding. The shadow was back in her eyes, and Bucky’s heart broke a little seeing it. She shook herself and gestured to his open notebook.

“What are you writing? You don’t have to tell me if it’s private.” She added hastily.

Bucky licked his lips nervously. “I uh…I have trouble remembering things sometimes, especially memories from…before. I write down the memories in these notebooks so I won’t forget again.” He thumbed back a few pages to where he had tucked her drawing from last night.

“This one is about Steve, when we were with the Howling Commandos during the war. I don’t remember a lot of that, and what you did last night helped a lot.”

Bucky handed her the notebook. He watched as she read the words on the page, her slender fingers grazing the drawing. His heart was in his throat—he had _never_ shown his notebooks to anyone, not even Steve. Y/N smiled slightly and handed the notebook back without paging further; it was as if she knew how hard the gesture had been for him, and she accepted it without pushing further.

“You write beautifully, thank you for sharing that with me.”

“I should be thanking you…what you did last night really meant a lot to me.” He swallowed thickly. “I was wondering if…some other time…you could help me find other memories. About Steve…from before.”

She regarded him silently for a minute before nodding. “Of course. I’d love to, especially if it helps you.”

“It does. It’s good to remember, it’s just sometimes…with Steve…it hurts.”

Y/N reached across the aisle, wrapping her fingers around his hand. “Sometimes the painful memories are the most important.”

She smiled at him, and he felt his soul lighten as he smiled back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a slower chapter, but exploring more of the reader and Bucky's relationship, as well as Sam and Bucky's relationship. Also, I switched tenses during the reader's POV from present to past tense--it was just to distracting to write that way.  
> Let me know what you think, I'm very excited for the direction of this story!


	4. Chapter 4

You stood outside the pub with Bucky, collar turned up against the chilly mist. The last nine hours had been a complete blur, and your head spun a bit as you reminded yourself where you were and what you were about to do.

And who you were with.

After the plane had touched down Bucky handed you a fake passport and driver’s license, alias Sarah Rourke. He would be posing as your husband, Elliot.

“Just act like you belong here, follow my lead, and everything will be fine,” he assured you. He led the way down to the rental desk to pick up the pre-reserved rental car under your alias’ names, and from there you headed to the hotel where there was already a reservation.

“Sharon’s nothing if not thorough,” he replied when you asked, referring to Agent Sharon Carter, Nick Fury’s second-in-command under New SHIELD.

You were surprised at how easy it was to slip in to the alias role of Sarah Rourke. Of course, most of your life had been spent trying to blend into the shadows, so this was far from a stretch for you.

Bucky was almost a different person now; gone was the boyish grin, the soft laughter. He was in full-protective mode, his eyes coldly scanning the environment as you made your way to the hotel. You noticed he kept his body between you and potential threats, maneuvering your body with a gentle hand at your waist or a soft word in your ear.

It was only after you had arrived in the room that he began to relax a bit—after thoroughly sweeping the area for bugs and evaluating all escape routes, of course. He was cold and efficient, and you felt safe with him.

Bucky looked down at his watch. “Okay, it’s a little early to head to the pub without drawing attention, so we’ve got a couple of hours to kill. How long will it take you to get ready?”

“Ready? Um…twenty minutes?”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I just gotta change my clothes, maybe touch up my makeup and hair…it’s a London East-End pub, not dinner at the Ritz.”

Bucky laughed. “You’re not tired?”

“Uh…should I be?”

Bucky looked like he could kiss you. He smirked and shook his head, and you felt your face flush. “All right, if you’re up for it, I’d like to go over a few defensive moves and talk through our strategy tonight…I want to make sure you can protect yourself if it comes down to it.”

“O-okay,” you stutter.

“The first thing I want to go over is how to take a punch. You want to absorb the blow, you understand? Lessen the physical impact.” He worked through a couple moves with you, seemingly surprised you picked them up as quickly as you did.

“It’s not the first time I’ve been hit, Bucky,” you explain. “I learned real quick what to do.” You blush as he looks at you, his face inscrutable. You see a hint of sadness flash across his eyes before he carefully schools his expression, the teacher once more.

The rest of the lesson passed without incident, although there were a few times where you were pulled tightly against his body and you felt an inexplicable heat coil deep within you. You hoped he couldn’t feel your heart pounding or see the flush in your cheeks. You considered Bucky a friend and wanted to keep it that way, but damn—you weren’t oblivious of his attractiveness and the feel of his hands on your body.

The lesson left you panting, and he called a halt a full thirty minutes before you had planned to leave. Bucky reclined on the bed, checking the messages on his phone while you got ready. Twenty-five minutes later you were both out the door, headed to the pub to see what trail you could find.

London was fascinating, exotic and bustling, but it was a city like any other. People jammed the streets, hurrying towards their destinations without sparing a glance at you and your companion. A short walk brought you to the pub on the corner; it was a little surreal seeing it in person after astral traveling here only one day ago.

You feel Bucky’s hand rest at the small of your back, and he gives your waist a brief squeeze.

“You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

“Don’t worry about anyone else, just do your thing. I’ve got your back, Y/N.”

His words light a warm flame within you, and with that you turn and walk through the doors of the pub.

*

The pub was crowded for a Tuesday night, and Bucky was forced to keep close to Y/N, tactfully positioning himself between her and the other patrons. He didn’t think he was being overcautious—the pub had once housed multiple agents of Zemo, and it wasn’t too far-fetched to think they would be here again.

They walked to the bar, ordering drinks out of the necessity to blend in rather than want. They both ordered a draft ale so as to fit in amongst the working crowd. Y/N barely sipped hers before moving slowly but determinedly towards the back room.

Bucky eyed her appraisingly—she fit right in here. She wore her skinny jeans and boots, a tight black tee that accentuated her figure under her jacket. When he asked her about the logo on the tee, she laughed self-consciously.

“It’s a British band, from the late-seventies. Motörhead—they’re kind of like the British version of Metallica.” She blushed, chewing her bottom lip. “In addition to being a space nerd, I _might_ be a bit of a metal-head.”

“Um…I don’t know what any of that means.”

Y/N threw her head back and laughed, and he felt something stir within him. He loved the sound of her laugh.

“It’s loud, harsh music…you would probably hate it.”

Drawn back to the task at hand, he watched as Y/N weaved her way through the crowd. He noticed she was going out of her way to touch as many people as possible, bumping into them and lightly brushing her fingers along their coat sleeves. He drew her aside.

“What are you doing? Touch invites recognition…we’re trying to lay low here.”

“It’s part of my Finding…I can get a small sense of where people have been and what they’ve done.”

His brow furrowed in confusion, so she explained further. “It’s not like mind reading, or anything like that. It’s more of a tiny peek—a vibe. If someone has been around the agents that were here the last time or Zemo himself, I’ll be able to tell.”

She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze and turned, continuing to move towards the back of the pub. Bucky watched her, and although she was touching a lot of people, they didn’t react suspiciously. Instead, the men seemed to be eying her hungrily, and Bucky felt his hackles rise. She was beautiful, no doubt, and with the smokey eyeliner, tattoos, and form-fitting jeans she looked temptingly sexy.

Y/N stopped suddenly, and he quickly closed the distance, wondering if something was wrong. She wrapped her arms inconspicuously around his neck and slowly turned him around, whispering in his ear.

“That one…the man in the corduroy jacket, blue cap. He’s been around the men that were here last night.”

They pretended to sway with the music and Bucky watched as the man pulled out a cigarette and book of matches, ripping the last match from the card.

“When he drops the book of matches, pick it up. I can Find with it,” she whispered. “I’ll go check out the back room.”

Bucky started to protest, not wanting her to go on her own, but she was already moving away from him. He turned and followed the man to the bar, deftly plucking up the discarded matchbook from an ashtray when no one was looking.

He saw Y/N slip into the back room. There was only one entrance, so after ensuring she was alone in the room, he posted himself at the door, watching the other patrons. Y/N cursed softly, coming up behind him.

“There’s nothing here. Just our luck that they picked a pub that actually values cleanliness.”

Bucky snorted, but he held up the matchbook. “Well, at least we’ve got something to go on…you ready to go?”

“Yeah…I think we’re done here.”

*

You looked down at the drawings on the table in front of you, the matchbook still clenched tightly in your hand. None of it made sense.

Zemo standing in front of a small jet, giving orders to the owner of the matchbook.

A long, low bunker deep in the woods, the raised impression of a skull and tentacles on the door. The man stood outside the bunker, lit cigarette in his hand.

You looked over at Bucky and saw the color had drained from his face. His eyes had taken on a glassy, haunted look, and you placed a hand on his arm gently.

“Bucky, are you okay?”

Bucky swallowed and grimaced, as if tasting something sour. “That’s Hydra,” he said, indicating the symbol on the bunker. “What’s Zemo’s guy doing at an abandoned Hydra facility? That place hasn’t been used in years.”

“What—you know this place?”

“Yeah, it’s in Belgium. I, uh…spent some time there…years ago.” The plates on his arm shifted slightly as he clenched his fists.

You started to say something but were interrupted by Bucky’s phone.

“That’s Sam, he’ll want an update,” Bucky said, looking glad of the distraction.

He unlocked his phone and pressed it to his ear. “Hey Sam…yeah, we’re good. We just got back from the pub…no, we didn’t…no, it looks like he’s left the country, she saw him getting on a jet…no…no, but we’ve got another lead, we’re gonna—yeah, we’re gonna get some rest and check it out in the morning, I’ll let you know. All right, you too.”

You eyed him sharply as he hung up the phone. “You didn’t tell him about Hydra.”

“No,” Bucky shook his head. “We don’t know that for sure, and even if we did, Sam wouldn’t let me go…I’m wanted in Belgium.”

“So you still want to check it out? Because I’m game if you are.”

“Yeah, we’re here now, and it’s our only lead so far. I don’t know what Hydra has to do with Zemo, but I don’t like it.” The haunted look was back in his eyes.

“Do you know where this place is?” you asked gently.

Bucky looked down at the drawing, rendered shockingly real in pencil. “Yeah…it’ll take us about seven hours by car, it’s in the woods outside of Bastogne.”

“Are you gonna be okay getting across the border? You said you were wanted there.” Your face was worried as you looked up at him, and he smiled softly.

“I’ll be all right, doll. I’ve got a bit of experience evading border police.” He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, seemingly touched by your concern.

Just then Bucky’s stomach gave a large growl and you both burst out laughing.

“Sorry,” he said, blushing. “I’m starving.”

You giggled. “Me too…my sense of time is all screwed up.”

“Let’s get something to eat then, and we should try to get some sleep and adjust to the time difference while we can.”

You ordered in dinner, chatting amiably about one of your favorite subjects—astronomy. Bucky was very knowledgeable, speaking intelligently about black holes and light-speed travel. When he told you about how Steve got to go to space with the Guardians, your jaw dropped.

“Yeah, I know…I can’t believe that little punk got to do that. I was _so_ jealous!” he laughed.

It was good to see him smile. You felt completely at ease with him, and you sensed he felt the same way. It was as if you had known each other forever—at least, a lot longer than two days. Soon, dinner was over and you both took turns in the shower. You took your time, washing away the griminess of the plane and pub.

You slipped into pajama pants and a tank top, toweling off your long hair and running a brush through it as you walked out of the bathroom. Bucky had arranged some pillows and blankets on the floor, and he was thumbing through your copy of _From the Earth to the Moon_.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

Bucky dropped the book, looking like a kid who had gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “S-sorry, I, uh…it’s been awhile since I read it and I…I’m sorry, I didn’t ask—”

You cut him off with an exasperated wave of your hand. “Not the book, you goof, I don’t mind if you read it…What are you doing on the floor?”

“Oh.” Bucky looked perplexed. “You can have the bed, I don’t mind taking the floor.”

“That’s silly,” you said, picking up his pillows and tossing them back on the bed. “The bed is huge…I’m not gonna make you sleep on the floor. I get it—chivalry is still alive and all—but you’re not sleeping down there. Besides, hotel floors are disgusting.”

“I’ve slept in worse places,” he said, looking slightly embarrassed.

You look at him, your gaze softening. “I know, but you don’t have to.”

Bucky’s mouth opened and closed, and he nodded, pulling back the edge of the sheets. You, meanwhile, tried not to notice they way his shirt hugged his muscles as you ran the brush through your hair a final time. Bucky watched as you settled into bed next to him, keeping a respectable distance between you.

“Hey,” he said softly, and you rolled over to look at him. He frowned, looking down at the covers before meeting your eye. “Th-thank you.”

“For what?”

Bucky didn’t answer, though. He just smiled at you, looking at you as if he were trying to figure you out. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

You smiled back and rolled over, looking up at the ceiling.

“Goodnight, Bucky.”


	5. Chapter 5

The bunker sat low and squat in a dense copse of trees, miles from the nearest sign of humanity. It looked abandoned, but Bucky knew better. The gravel on the dirt road leading to the bunker was disturbed. Someone had been here—recently.

Bucky shifted on his stomach and aimed the binoculars at the bunker’s heavy door. The Hydra symbol was barely discernable, but it still sent a shiver down his spine. It grinned maliciously back at him, taunting him. The last of the Hydra cells had been wiped out years ago; Bucky had been right there with Steve when they took out the last facility in East Africa. He never thought he’d be staring at that symbol again. 

He sighed heavily and lowered the binoculars. “Somebody’s been here.”

Y/N was lying in the grass next to him, squinting her eyes at the bunker, her nose wrinkled adorably. “How can you tell?” she asked.

“Gravel in the drive’s been disturbed. Someone drove a heavy truck up that road not too long ago.”

Bucky sat up and started digging through his duffle bag, arming himself. They had parked the car about a mile away and covered it with brush, hiking the rest of the way on foot. She watched as he slid on his holster and strapped a scoped rifle to his back, double-checking the magazines. He pulled out a small handgun and considered it for a moment.

Entering the Hydra Facility was going to be risky, and there was no way he was going to place her in that kind of danger. They needed to see if there was anything left, anything that she could use to unravel the connection between Zemo and Hydra—but he could do that himself. He looked over at her and held up the gun.

“Do you know how to use one of these?”

She nodded, and he handed it to her after checking the magazine and safety.

“I want you to go back to the car and wait for me. Keep the doors locked. If I’m not back in an hour, I want you to drive back into town and call Sam. Okay?”

She stared at him. “I’m not going with you?”

“There’s no way I’m taking you in there,” he said, pointing to the disturbed gravel in front of the door. “I’m supposed to be protecting you, not leading you into a bunker crawling with Hydra agents.”

“It could be empty,” she argued.”

Bucky clenched his jaw in frustration; Y/N could be so stubborn when she wanted to be. “We don’t know that. I can’t risk you getting hurt.”

His tone was firm; he needed her to understand the danger. She was under his protection, and it wasn’t just that--he really cared about her. He couldn’t bear the thought of her hurt, or worse--taken. Y/N didn’t seem to grasp the problem, she just looked at him with a slight smirk on her lips.

“Hmm…if only there was a way we could travel in there and check if it’s safe without actually going in there…if only we knew someone who could astral project.”

Bucky huffed and looked down at the ground. “That’s…actually a good idea.”

“I have those, occasionally,” she said. She shifted on the ground and looked up at him. “Sooo…if it’s abandoned then I can come with? It’ll go a lot faster if I can help you look. Besides—if you’re alone, who’s gonna watch _your_ back?”

Bucky was speechless for a moment, then shook his head, smirking. “I don’t know if you’re fearless or just plain crazy.”

“So that’s a yes?”

“Yeah,” he grumbled.

“Okay,” she said cheerfully. She laid down on the ground, deftly avoiding a mud puddle. “Be right back.”

Her eyes rolled to white, and she was gone. Bucky took another look at the bunker, then settled back against a tree trunk—nothing left to do now but wait.

The woods were quiet. Being back here again brought back memories of the first time he had been here, back with the Howling Commandos in 1944. It was winter then, and Bucky chuckled remembering Morita complaining about the cold.

He looked down at Y/N. She was still gone, but he noticed a leaf had fallen and gotten caught in her hair. Leaning down, he gently brushed it off, his fingers lingering on her cheekbone as he tucked her hair behind her ear.

Bucky smiled, remembering the night before when she had thrown her arms around him in the bar. How good she had felt in his arms, how right…the way her breath tickled as she whispered to him, her lips inches from his ear…her sweet, intoxicating scent as he held her close. And later, how she had offered to share the bed, illustrating the depth of her trust in him.

He had realized he was starting to develop feelings for Y/N when he woke up this morning and saw her sleeping peacefully next to him, their bodies separated by inches. She looked beautiful, long sooty lashes resting against her cheeks, her lips slightly parted. Her chest rose and fell with even breaths, and her tousled hair was splayed around her head like a halo. He wondered what it would be like to wake up to her every morning.

Bucky shook himself—he was getting distracted, which was dangerous. Besides, he had no way of knowing how she felt about him, and he wasn’t about to jeopardize their friendship and her trust by acting on his feelings.

It was best to keep quiet about it…for now.

Bucky twisted back towards the bunker. It probably _was_ deserted, but this way they could be sure. He hadn’t been wild about sending her back to the car by herself, either. This way he could keep her close, and she’d be safe.

He heard a sharp intake of breath behind him, and he turned to find Y/N sitting up, brushing the dirt and leaves from her jacket.

“All clear,” she said. “Doesn’t look like they left much behind, though.”

Bucky nodded. “Good. You ready, then?” He stood and helped her up. She nodded, and they headed down the hill towards the bunker.

*

The Hydra Facility was creepy. It smelled of dirt and decay, as if another soul hadn’t set foot there in years. Bucky pulled open the door, and it swung forward on rusty hinges. He motioned for you to get behind him and he lifted his rifle, sighting into the gloom.

Protective Bucky was back. His leather jacket had been zipped up, and he wore a complex shoulder holster that held two handguns in addition to several knives—and those were just the ones you could see. Bucky was slightly crouched, walking silently on the balls of his feet and visually scanning the area. He looked positively lethal, and you were very glad he was on your side.

He passed through the doorway, and you started to follow but stopped short. You felt…weird. There was no other way to put it. A slight buzzing in your head, a tingling sensation in your fingertips. It almost felt like the sensation you would feel right before you astral traveled.

Another step forward, and the sensation was gone. It was almost like you had passed through a membrane or barrier. Bucky turned and must have seen the look on your face, because he was at your side in an instant, his face drawn in concern.

“What’s wrong?”

“I…I don’t know. You didn’t feel that?”

“Feel what?”

You took a step back towards the door, waiving your arm around experimentally. Nothing.

“I’m not sure, it’s gone now,” you shook your head. You felt a little stupid for worrying him; he hadn’t wanted to bring you in the first place, and you didn’t want to look like a total nutcase.

“It’s nothing, probably just a draft or something,” you finished lamely.

You still felt like something was off but didn’t say anything more—it was too weird. Bucky stared at you for a couple seconds, trying to see through your lie, but he didn’t press it. He turned, sweeping his rifle through the room.

“Keep up.”

You followed him through the entryway and down a long corridor. Rooms opened to the right and left, but they were all empty. You were starting to get discouraged when you turned the corner and found yourself in a large, open room with a circular chamber in one corner and a sinister-looking chair in the center.

The chair was covered in black leather, with thick metal restraints along the arms and legs. A large mechanical device was poised behind the chair, topped with a circular clamp that could be lowered over whomever was strapped to the chair.

Even now, the room smelled of ozone and burnt flesh. Of fear and pain.

“What is this place?” you breathed.

You looked over at Bucky. All the color had drained from his face, and he stared at the chair with glassy, vacant eyes. His chest began to heave as he gasped for breath, and he took a couple of shaky steps backwards, as if to get away from it.

“Buck…Bucky, are you okay? What’s wrong?”

You looked back and forth between him and the chair, gasping as it dawns on you. You knew he had been cryogenically frozen and tortured, his mind repeatedly wiped by electroshock. This is where they did it—it was one of the places they had kept him.

You cursed under your breath; he was having a panic attack.

“Bucky, it’s okay.” You reached out and held his face in your hands, tilting it towards you. “Bucky, look at me. Don’t look at the chair—just look at me.”

His eyes finally found yours, and the depths of the horror you saw there broke you. He trembled beneath your touch.

“That’s it. Stay with me, Bucky. No one is going to hurt you.”

You held him and turned him away from the chair, burying your face in his neck. He whimpered and wrapped his arms around you, nearly crushing you with his desperate grasp.

Bucky took a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m sorry…I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I-I knew there was a chance it would still be here, but seeing it now…I’m sorry…I’m so weak.”

“You’re not weak,” you soothed. “A lot of really bad things happened to you here, and it was a shock seeing it. Trust me, I understand.”

He slowly pulled away slightly and stared at you, his gaze impenetrable. Bucky’s breathing evened out, and he gradually stopped trembling. You held each other for a few more moments, both of you reluctant to break the embrace. Finally, he looked down at his watch.

“We, um…we should keep going. I don’t want to stay here any longer than we have to.”

He had stopped shaking, but he was still pale. Reluctantly, you released him. Despite the horror of the room and the inherent danger of trespassing at a Hydra Facility, you didn’t want to let him go. His body felt strong and warm against you, and you felt safe in his arms, as if he had been the one comforting you instead of the other way round.

You followed him out of the room, continuing down the corridor once again. It opened into another large room, this one filled with desks and computers.

“Why would they leave all these behind?” you asked, dumbfounded.

“No power,” Bucky said, flicking the light switch without results. “They’re probably dead as a doornail.”

You walked over to one of the computers, flipping over the monitor. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean they won’t be useful to us.”

It only took you a couple of minutes to pull the hard drive, and you held it up in triumph. Bucky looked at you in confusion.

“It’s a hard drive,” you explained. Bucky just shook his head.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know a lot about computers.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot…you’re like a hundred years old,” you teased.

Bucky scoffed, but he grinned when he saw your smirk. “Can we get anything off it?”

“Well, _I_ can’t but I’m sure Sam knows a guy.”

“Good enough, then.”

You both continued to move through the space. You rummaged through drawers, but they were all empty.

Except one.

You held up the object. It was a stack of yellow post-it notes, just ordinary office supplies, but it might be enough. Pulling pencil and paper out of your jacket pocket, you sat at the desk as Bucky came up behind you.

“Find something?”

“We’ll see,” you said as you readied your pencil.

A moment later you were transported mentally back several weeks. The room you were currently sitting in was brightly lit, a large Hydra flag hanging on the wall. You saw Zemo—you recognized him from the photos you had been shown—talking with another man in a heavy hood.

_“We’ve located the soul, I don’t understand what the issue is.” Zemo was agitated, looking at the hooded man with barely concealed contempt._

_“I require more to complete the transfer…you cannot comprehend the amount of energy needed. These plebs you bring me are merely a sip. I require an entire fountain to do what you ask.”_

_“Show us what you need, and we will do whatever it takes to get it for you. Send the details ahead to New York. This is just one key to unlocking the Winter Soldier program once again. You are the other.”_

You pulled away from the paper and frowned in confusion. None of it made sense. You looked up at Bucky for an explanation, but you stopped short. If anything, he’s even paler; he snatched up the drawing, folding it and slipping it into the pocket of his leather jacket.

“We need to get out of here…now.”

“What did that mean?”

Bucky shook his head and firmly grabbed your arm, pulling you from the chair and steering you down the corridor. You decided not to press the issue and fell in behind him, a sense of dread filling you.

Whatever it was, it was bad.

Before long, you had reached the entrance. Bucky eased open the door and peeked out, rifle at the ready. Seeing nothing, he walked through the doors, pausing on the other side. You were about to step out into the sunlight, but Bucky threw an arm across your front, stopping you.

“What—”

“Get down!”

Rough hands shoved you to the ground a split second before gunfire erupted, peppering the door where your head had been moments before. Bucky dragged you upright and pushed you into the corner, throwing his body in front of yours a second before a dark figure appeared, firing a semi-automatic rifle in your direction.

Bucky raised his vibranium arm to block the shots, and you felt his body jerk with each impact. He fired his rifle, and your assailant dropped.

“Stay here,” he hissed at you, pushing you deeper into the corner. “I’ll be right back.”

He whirled and was gone. You heard sporadic gunfire interspersed with grunts and shouts, and you pulled the gun Bucky had given you. You hoped you wouldn’t have to use it.

You were certainly no stranger to violence, but you had never taken a life—at least, not directly. You weren’t scared, not exactly; you were worried for Bucky.

_How did they know we were here?_

The sounds died down, and Bucky appeared around the corner of the bunker.

“C’mon…we’ve gotta move.”

He noted the gun in your hands, looking pleased with your sense of self-preservation. Reaching down he pulled you to your feet, wrapping an arm around you. You were shaking slightly, more out of the rush of adrenaline than anything else.

“You okay?”

You nodded and he released you, leading the way back to the car. Bucky had his rifle up, scanning the area for threats as you made your way back to the road. You followed him, frowning as you noticed a sticky warmth seeping through your shirt.

Looking down, you saw a large crimson stain across the front of your jacket. You fingered the stain, recognizing it as blood; strangely though, you didn’t feel any pain. Had you been shot? Cautiously you pulled up your shirt, but there was no hole.

It wasn’t your blood.

You had reached the car, and you look over at Bucky as he striped the branches off the vehicle. His hand was pressed to his side, blood seeping though his fingers.

“Bucky, you’re hurt.”

“I’ll be fine,” he said curtly, slipping behind the steering wheel. “C’mon, Y/N, we need to go!”

His urgency broke you of your stupor, and your rear barely hit the seat before he accelerated down the road, trying to put as much distance between you and the Hydra Facility.

Both hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his mouth drawn into a thin line. You looked down and blanched, seeing the blood running steadily down his side. You started to say something but stopped when you saw the look on his face as he peered into the rearview mirror.

“We’ve got company.”


	6. Chapter 6

Two SUV’s had appeared in the rearview mirror, closing rapidly on the sedan. Bucky floored it, the rental car leaping forward in a surprising burst of speed.

“Get down!”

He pushed your head down against the armrest a moment before the rear window exploded. You instinctively ducked further as glass flew through the interior and bullets shredded your headrest.

“Hold on!”

Bucky jerked the wheel and you braced yourself as he took a sharp right onto a side road. Your face was inches from Bucky, and your stomach clenched seeing the blood coating his side. Struggling out of your jacket, you stripped off your softer, more absorbent overshirt.

“What’re you doing?” he asked, his jaw clenched as he swerved to evade another attack.

You pressed the fabric to his side, trying to stop the bleeding. “Well, we won’t get very far if you bleed to death first, will we?”

“Don’t worry about me,” he grunted. “Just stay down.”

You had no idea how fast you were going, but judging by the whine of the engine, it was pretty fast. You couldn’t see much from your sheltered position, so you grit your teeth and held the shirt in place. Bucky jerked the emergency brake and twisted the wheel, and you were thrown against the seatbelt as he took another sharp turn, trying to evade the larger vehicles.

Gasping, you braced a hand against the dash as the vehicle straightened out. You were picking up speed, and with a brief glance out the window, you saw the three vehicles had entered a long straightaway. Bucky glanced down at you.

“I need you to steer.”

“Wha-what?”

“Take the wheel,” he said as he drew an MP5 from god-knows where. You yelped and grabbed the wheel with both hands as he twisted in his seat, firing through the open rear window.

Your eyes were glued to the road, but you heard the crunch of metal behind you. Bucky’s hands gripped the wheel once again, and you spared a glace behind you. Both of your pursuers were now a twisted heap of smoking metal, growing smaller in the distance.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. You were safe—for now. Picking up the remains of your shirt, you pressed it once again to Bucky’s side, noting worriedly how fast it was becoming soaked.

“Bucky, we need to pull over. You’re shot—”

“We can’t stop now,” he said, staring grimly ahead. “We need to put as much distance between us and them as possible. _And_ we need to ditch this car; we’ve got to assume they know the plates, and driving around with a busted rear window is gonna attract attention.”

You sigh. He was right, you knew, but you were still concerned.

“How did they find us?” you asked. “Some kind of silent alarm?”

Bucky shook his head. “I don’t know. I swear there wasn’t anything, but there might’ve been some new technology, something even I overlooked.” He grimaced. “I was stupid-- _stupid_ \--to bring you in there. You could’ve been hurt.”

“I’m not the one bleeding all over the upholstery,” you muttered quietly.

Bucky snorted. “I’ll be fine, doll.”

The minutes stretched into hours, and still you drove on. You noticed Bucky’s eyes growing increasingly heavy; his breathing was rapid and shallow, and a light sheen of sweat coated his face. You looked over at the car clock. It was ten p.m.

“Bucky, we need to stop. It’s been hours, and nothing has happened.” You looked out the windshield, spotting a small motel perched on the edge of town. “C’mon. You know we need to stop, we can ditch the car in the woods behind the motel.”

You were really worried about him. He had lost a shocking amount of blood, and he was deathly pale. You supposed that it was only the super-soldier serum keeping him going now. But even that would eventually run out.

Thankfully, he nodded and pulled the vehicle into the woods. He drove as far as he could before shutting off the engine. You got out, adjusting your coat to hide the bloodstains.

“I’m gonna go get us a room…I’ll be right back.”

*

Bucky drifted. The gunshot would had bled far more than he had expected, and he felt light-headed. It was a through-and-through, missing any vital organs but still tearing a swath of damage through his side. He felt his eyelids grow heavy but resisted, forcing himself upright and gathering items from the car into the duffle bag.

Footsteps crunched in the leaves and he tensed a moment before realizing it was her.

“We’re good to go,” she said, holding up a key. Bucky lurched to his feet and tried to take a step, but his knees buckled.

“Woah, big guy,” Y/N said, slipping his arm over her shoulders. “Let me help you…if you go down I’m not sure I could get you back up by myself.”

Her arm around his waist and her hand on his wrist warmed him. He felt ashamed to lean so heavily on her, but he felt so weak. Bucky looked back towards the bags sitting near the car, but she clicked her tongue in discouragement.

“I can come back later for those…let’s just get you inside.”

Finally, they entered the motel room, and she sat him on the bed.

“I’ll be right back. I’m gonna get the bags and make sure the car’s hidden.”

She left, and the door closed softly behind her. Bucky hung his head, closing his eyes against the wave of pain and nausea that threatened to engulf him.

_Get up, Barnes…Don’t fall asleep yet._

_Check the exit routes._

_Make sure it’s safe._

It was a simple motel room, first floor—easy access. A large window provided a suitable secondary escape route. Bucky nodded, pleased. Still holding the blood-soaked shirt to his side, he reached into his jeans and pulled out his phone, shaking his head as his vision doubled momentarily.

Eight missed calls and several texts from Sam.

_Boy, is he gonna be pissed._

Bucky quickly typed a text to Sam. He would call him later—he definitely wasn’t in the mood for a lecture right now.

_Sam: Where the hell are you guys? Answer your goddamn phone_

_Bucky: Intel obtained. EXFIL 02. Urgent. Posit 050.159E 005.222W_

He looked up just as Y/N returned, struggling under the weight of the duffle bag. Bucky stood to help her, but the room spun out from under him and he sat heavily back down on the bed. Dumping the bag unceremoniously, she threw his arm over her shoulders once again and led him over to the bathroom.

“Bucky, we need to do something about your wound. You can’t keep going like this.”

He nodded weakly and pointed to the duffle bag as she eased him into a chair. “Med kit…in the bag.”

Y/N grabbed the kit and helped him as he struggled out of his jacket. His white tee was a gruesome mess, and he saw her eyes widen slightly as she helped him remove it. She threw it in the sink along with her bloody overshirt; using it as a pressure bandage had been quick thinking on her part, and Bucky was impressed—it had kept him conscious long enough to do what had to be done.

She laid out the medical kit on the counter and washed her hands. Grabbing a washcloth from the counter, she gently cleaned the blood from the site, noting with satisfaction that the wound had almost stopped bleeding.

“Y/N, you don’t have to…I can do it myself,” Bucky said as he tried to take the cloth from her.

“Yeah, and how are you gonna stitch up the exit wound in your back?” Her tone was sharp, but her eyes were filled with concern.

She huffed out a breath. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you, it’s just…you can be so stubborn sometimes. You saved my life back there, twice. Just let me take care of you.”

She smiled up at him, a tender, caring smile, and he felt his heart melt. He watched as she cleaned and disinfected the site; her hands were soft and gentle, her brow creased in concentration as she worked. It was strange, having someone take care of him. Bucky was used to limping off alone to lick his wounds in private, and it was nice to have someone who cared.

Steve had cared, of course, but he could be as fussy as a mother hen at times. Half the time he wouldn’t even tell Steve when he was injured, just so he wouldn’t have to listen to him nag. Bucky grimaced at the pain and anger caused by thoughts of his late best friend.

Y/N must have seen the look on his face because she paused, looking up at him in concern.

“How are you feeling?”

“A little dizzy still, but better.”

Y/N cursed under her breath. She pulled a protein bar and a bottle of water from the bag and handed it to him. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking, you probably need to eat something.” She shook her head in disbelief as she laid out the suture kit. “I feel dead on my feet, I swear I don’t know what’s keeping you going right now.”

 _You_ , he thought to himself, smiling inwardly.

She started to stitch, and he winced as he felt the needle pierce his skin. Apologizing profusely, she reached into the kit for a painkiller, but he shook his head.

“Don’t bother, they don’t work on me. The serum…my metabolism just burns it off before it can work.”

“A blessing and a curse, then.”

Bucky chuckled lightly. “Just go ahead and stitch me up, doll, I’ll be fine.”

“You sound like a broken record. Sergeant James ‘I’ll be fine’ Barnes.”

“You’re a snarky little thing, you know that? But that’s why I like you,” he said, looking down at her with affection.

It might have been the blood loss, but he could have sworn she returned his look before her face colored and she bent back down over his wound. Bucky watched her fondly as she worked. She was so strong; after everything she had been through today, she was still on her feet, mouthing off at him as she patched him up. None of it seemed to phase her.

Bucky wondered about her past, about what had happened to her to allow her to take the events of the day in stride. The girl was so cryptic about it; every attempt he had made to ask was met with deflection. He was curious but he didn’t want to push, though. He understood about wanting to bury your past.

Bucky finished the protein bar and the water as she began taping some gauze over the entrance and exit wounds. He really did feel a lot better, though whether it was from the food or just her attentions, he wasn’t sure.

“Feeling any better?”

“Much...thank you, Y/N.”

She reached down helped him to his feet, her hand sliding his up his flesh arm. He swayed slightly as a wave of dizziness hit him and reached out for support, both hands finding her hips.

He blushed, but he didn’t remove his hands. “I guess I’m a little unsteady still.”

Y/N was looking at him. “Maybe you should sit back down,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Yet she made no move to pull away from him. Instead, she reached up and placed a hand on his other arm, the metal one, and he felt a coil tighten in his stomach.

Bucky was painfully aware of how close she was. He could feel the heat from her body and smell her shampoo. She was staring back at him, her pupils blown wide in the dim light.

Or maybe it wasn’t the light at all.

His gaze dropped to her lips, and he tightened his grip unconsciously. They looked soft and pink, and he wondered what she tasted like. He leaned towards her, and his heart pounded painfully in his chest when he saw her tilt her face up towards his.

Did she want this as much as he did?

Their faces were inches apart, and he could feel the rapid rise and fall of her chest against his own. He bent to close the distance between them, closing his eyes as—

His phone rang.

Loudly.

Y/N jumped away from him so fast he had to grip the counter so he wouldn’t fall to the floor. Cursing loudly, Bucky snatched his phone from the counter, looking at the Caller ID.

Sam.

Irritation flooded him on several levels. He answered the phone, pressing it to his ear as he sat back down in the chair.

“Hey, Sam.”

“Hey, Sam? That’s how you gonna answer the phone after going off the grid for hours?”

“Sorry, we were in an area without service.”

“Tell me you aren’t in Belgium.”

“I—”

“ _Tell me_ you aren’t in Belgium.”

Bucky didn’t have the patience for this. “Look, Sam, you’ve got the coordinates, you know where we are. Yeah, we went a little off script, but we’re okay and we’ve got the intel.”

“Off script? Man, you’re off the goddamn reservation! You—”

“I don’t want to get into it right now, okay?” he said, raising his voice. “Just send the Quinjet for us, you can yell at me then.”

“You two safe?”

“For the time being.”

“Fine,” Sam huffed, sounding resigned. “Quinjet will be there in the morning, I’ll call you then. Get some sleep, man, you sound like shit.”

Bucky started to reply, but Sam had already hung up. Well, that hadn’t gone as badly as he’d thought it would, and they had transportation for the morning. He grit his teeth as he stood, pressing a hand against the pull of the stitches.

He looked over to where Y/N was re-arranging the bags, and he watched her for a moment. Her face was flushed, and she was looking anywhere but at him. They had clearly been about to kiss before Sam had called, but now she seemed like she was actively avoiding him. Doubt began to eat at him.

Maybe she hadn’t wanted it after all.

“I, uh, I’m pretty tired, so if you’re good I’m just gonna hop in the shower and head to bed.” Her voice was brisk, and she stared at the floor as she gathered her shower items.

“Y/N—”

“I’ll be quick,” she said, scooting past him into the bathroom and locking the door.

Bucky walked slowly over to the bed and sat down, running a hand through his hair in frustration. She had looked embarrassed—mortified, even.

_God, what an idiot!_

He had made her feel uncomfortable. She clearly didn’t feel the same way he did, he must have misread the situation. He had wanted it so badly he had been imagining her response as anything other than friendly concern.

Bucky’s heart ached. He wanted her so badly it hurt, and he cared about her so deeply her rejection stung. He didn’t know why he was so taken with her; she was beautiful, but she wasn’t his usual type at all. She was smart and strong, kind and funny, with a hint of sadness that he couldn’t put his finger on. He was drawn to her in such a visceral way that he ached to think he might have ruined his chance.

He hadn’t known her very long—hell, he had just started to realize feelings for her that morning. And now because of a little disorientation due to blood loss and the fact she had wanted to take care of him, he’d gone and jumped the gun and possibly ruined everything.

He had done the exact thing he said he wasn’t going to do. Bucky valued her friendship and trust far too much, and he didn’t want to lose her. Better to have her as a friend than not at all. He had to fix this, but how?

Talking about it wasn’t an option, she could barely look at him after the aborted kiss. Probably best to forget it ever happened…not that anything had happened anyway. She clearly didn’t feel the same way he did.

That’s what he’d do…forget it ever happened.

Bucky stood and pulled on clean shirt and sweatpants as the shower shut off. He took the drawing and hard drive from his jacket. His blood had stained the corner of the drawing, and he tried to wipe it off. Y/N’s words haunted him—he thought he’d heard the last of the Winter Soldier program years ago.

He looked up as Y/N emerged, skin glowing as she toweled off her damp hair. She looked so good he almost forgot what he had decided.

“So, uh, Sam’s sending the Quinjet tomorrow…he was pretty pissed at me, but I’m sure he’ll change his tune once he sees what we found,” he said, trying to make his voice sound normal.

She halted, looking surprised. He thought he saw a flash of disappointment in her eyes, but he must have been mistaken about that too, because a moment later she had hung up the towel and was starting to scrub the bloody clothes in the sink.

“Oh…well, that’s good…it’ll be good to get back, um, and find out what’s on that hard drive.”

Her face was flushed, and she scrubbed viciously at the clothes. Bucky kicked himself—she still felt uncomfortable. Well, at least she was talking to him.

“Y/N, I can do that…it’s my mess,” he said, trying to take the clothes from her. “It’s the least I can do for bleeding all over your shirt.”

He felt bad; she looked so tired, and he supposed the events of the day were catching up to her. He knew the Finding drained her, but she had also broken into a Hydra Base, dealt with his panic attack, been shot at, been involved in a car chase, _and_ had to patch him up while he bled all over the place. Not to mention dealing with his misguided advances.

He was honestly amazed she was still standing.

“It’s okay, Bucky, I don’t mind,” she said. “Besides, it’s just blood…It’ll wash out.”

She didn’t meet his eyes for long, but she flashed him a brief smile, melting the bands of tension crushing him. She finished with the clothes and hung them in the shower to dry.

Bucky sat in the chair and fidgeted with his phone, not wanting to presume he was welcome in the bed a second night. Y/N climbed into bed and looked over at him. Her gaze was impenetrable, and he wondered what she was thinking.

“You can sleep in the bed, Bucky. I mean, you don’t have to, but the offer is still there.”

Bucky didn’t have to be told twice. He got up, wincing at the flare of pain in his side, and settled next to her. She was at the far end of the bed, facing the wall. Her body language could not have been clearer, and he felt his heart break a little.

“G-goodnight, Y/N. Thank you, for uh, patching me up.”

She still seemed upset, and he had to physically restrain himself from wrapping his arms around her. He was surprised when he heard her answer him, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Goodnight, Bucky. Thank you for saving my life.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: Graphic Violence, Blood, Murder Flashback
> 
> Series Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Depression, References to Drug use, References to Rape/NonCon, Angst, Fluff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I like to give my “Reader” character some personality, and this “Reader” has a tragic and violent backstory. She’s done some dubious things, and this part includes a flashback of a murder she witnessed. It’s violent and can be triggering, so please heed the warnings.

The lock to the door snapped shut and you leaned against the door, trying to slow your racing heart. Bucky had almost kissed you—that’s what happened, right? Feverishly you replayed the events in your head.

You had been so worried about Bucky as you helped him into the room. He looked truly awful, like he was about to pass out at any second, and the amount of blood he had lost terrified you. You knew some basic first aid, but if he needed real medical attention you didn’t know what you would do. A hospital was out of the question—he was wanted in Belgium.

After your panic had died down and you realized he was going to be fine, you began to feel an electric tension between you both.

To be truthful, you had been noticing it for a while. The protectiveness, the glancing touches, the looks…it had to mean something more, right? The way you could talk to him, it felt like you had known each other for years instead of a few days. Underneath his rugged exterior he was such a gentle soul, and he made your heart melt. There was this inexorable pull that drew you to Bucky--you just couldn’t explain it.

Of course, you weren’t oblivious to his gorgeous looks or his charm, either; when he called you doll with that devilish smirk of his you all but turned into a puddle at his feet. He was boyishly handsome, and once you had assured yourself he was going to be fine it had been all you could do to keep your mind on your work and not think about running your hands all over his sculpted body as he sat half-naked in front of you.

You definitely liked him, and as more than just a friend.

_“That’s why I like you.”_

He had said that, didn’t he? And the look that had accompanied those words told you he meant it the same way. He didn’t pull away after he had grabbed you for support, and neither had you. Your head was spinning, you wanted him so badly and having him this close was driving you crazy. His skin felt warm beneath your fingers, and he was trembling slightly, probably from the blood loss, though.

Or maybe it wasn’t that at all, because the next moment his eyes dropped to your lips, and he was leaning into you. His breath had been soft against your face and his lips inches from yours, when the phone rang.

You felt him jump beneath you, and you had leapt away as he angrily answered the phone. Your head had been spinning as you tried to busy yourself and process the last five minutes, hoping either he would say or do something so you both could pick up where you had left off.

But he didn’t. He hung up the phone and just stared; you could feel his eyes on you, but he didn’t say a word, didn’t make a move towards you. Had you made him uncomfortable?

Could you have misinterpreted the entire situation?

You were so confused. Hurriedly, you had scooped up your toiletries and rushed into the bathroom to think.

And now here you were.

You turned the shower off and stepped out onto the mat, drying yourself off. Something had definitely happened, or almost happened anyway. You weren’t sure what all that awkwardness was about after the phone call…maybe he was confused too. You liked Bucky—a lot—and you wanted to tell him. He trusted you and you considered him a good friend, and he deserved to know how you felt. You certainly didn’t want this to become an awkward divide between the two of you.

That’s what you would do—just talk it out with him, explain your feelings.

You thought—you hoped—he felt the same way you did.

Taking a deep breath, you opened the door to the bathroom and walked out, toweling off your hair. Bucky was standing near the bed in clean tee and sweatpants, and he looked so good you felt a heat burn deep in your core.

“So, uh, Sam’s sending the Quinjet tomorrow…he was pretty pissed at me, but I’m sure he’ll change his tune once he sees what we found.”

You froze. Bucky’s tone was neutral, and he was holding your drawing in his hand, acting like nothing had happened. He didn’t want to talk about it at all.

Your heart sank. You were mistaken about everything. Swallowing your disappointment, you hanged your towel up and turned towards the sink to hide the emotions you were sure were written all over your face.

“Oh…well, that’s good…it’ll be good to get back, um, and find out what’s on that hard drive.”

Forcing a cheerful look onto your face, you scrubbed at the clothes in the sink as Bucky’s blood washed down the drain. His reaction hurt, but to be honest you weren’t really that surprised. He was so out of your league, it had been wishful thinking to assume he wanted anything more than your friendship.

You knew you weren’t unattractive, you just weren’t beautiful the way some women were--the type of woman that would be with a man like him. Maybe it was your looks, or the fact that you were tall and not some dainty little princess…or your tattoos, probably a turn-off for a man from 1945…or your nerdy personality, but you had always been branded the outsider. As not being good enough.

Even if he did return your feelings, you hadn’t been truthful to him. He didn’t know a thing about you. Sam clearly hadn’t told him, and when Bucky found out what you had done, the type of person you had been, he wouldn’t want anything to do with you.

Why had you ever thought you would be good enough for someone like him?

“Y/N, I can do that…it’s my mess,” he said, trying to take the clothes from you. “It’s the least I can do for bleeding all over your shirt.”

There was a guilty edge to his tone and looking over at his face you saw it was reddened. Good god, you had embarrassed him. You were mortified.

“It’s okay, Bucky, I don’t mind,” you said. “Besides, it’s just blood…It’ll wash out.”

You flashed him a brief smile, and he looked relieved. That was good—at least things didn’t have to be weird between you two. You really cared about him, and if you couldn’t have him the way you wanted, you at least wanted his friendship. 

Finishing with the clothes, you climbed into bed and looked over at Bucky. He was fidgeting with his phone, and you wondered if he was debating whether to sleep on the floor again. 

“You can sleep in the bed, Bucky. I mean, you don’t have to, but the offer is still there,” you said, trying to put him at ease.

Bucky got up and climbed into bed, and the heat in your stomach flared once again despite your attempts to dampen it. You saw him wince and hold his side, and you scolded yourself. He was still hurting after saving your sorry ass, and all you could think about was how much you wanted him.

You rolled over and faced the wall, not trusting yourself to even look at him right now. Best to just get a good night’s sleep and push the events of the last hour as far from your mind as possible. That’s what you were good at, anyway—running away and burying things so you didn’t have to deal with them.

“G-goodnight, Y/N. Thank you, for uh, patching me up.”

His voice was soft, and you felt him shift uncomfortably on the bed behind you. Your heart ached for him, and you realized that you never thanked him for earlier.

Ungrateful idiot.

“Goodnight, Bucky. Thank you for saving my life.”

*

_Blood. There was blood everywhere._

_The coppery tang stings your nostrils as you cower in the corner. It drips off the fist of the dark figure standing in front of you, his chest heaving as he stares at the crumpled form on the floor in front of him._

_It’s even on the fur of your stuffed rabbit Harvey, staining the cream fur crimson._

_“M-Mommy?”_

_You clutch at Harvey. Mommy is looking right at you, but she doesn’t move._

_“Mommy, please get up.”_

_The figure takes a menacing step towards you. “Shut up, you little brat,” he growls, his words slurring. He kicks viciously at the figure on the floor, and you get scared when her hand flops limply on the ground._

_The dark figure takes a long gulp from the bottle on the counter, leering at you._

_“All your fault, you little freak. Everything was fine before you.”_

_Another gulp, and you begin to tremble. Mommy wasn’t getting up._

_“You come along and she starts mouthin’ off…disrespecting me.”_

_His speech is slurring worse now, and he reaches into his back pocket, pulling out a folding knife. He flicks it open and points it at you, and you clutch Harvey tighter._

_“She learned her lesson, and so will you.”_

“Y/N…Y/N wake up!”

Rough hands shook you, gripping your shoulders tightly. You gasped and shoved blindly at the hands holding you, and you heard a grunt of pain.

“No, please! Please don’t hurt me!” you whimpered, cringing away as you were released. It was so dark, and you couldn’t see anything. You knew there was blood everywhere—you could smell it. Scooting back against the headboard, you hugged your knees to your chest and covered your head, waiting for the inevitable blow.

The light clicked on. “Y/N, it’s me, Bucky. You’re safe, no one’s gonna hurt you.” His voice was soft but urgent, and you felt a warm hand rest lightly on your shoulder.

You slowly raised your head and looked dazedly around the room. The sheets were white and crisp, not speck of crimson in sight. You could still smell it, feel it on your hands, but when you looked down they were clean. Then you remembered where you were.

The hotel room. The Hydra Agents. Bucky.

“It’s okay Y/N, you were having a nightmare…you’re safe now.”

Blue eyes filled with concern and a knowing sadness met yours, and you realized it had all been just a dream. You let out a sob of air, and you pressed your hand to your mouth in horror as you began to shake. Bucky quickly pulled you close and wrapped his arms around you. The nightmare, so shockingly vivid, edged over your reality and you began to tremble and gasp for air.

“Shh…it’s okay, I’ve got you. Just breathe, sweetheart, you have to breathe.”

Bucky held you tightly against his chest. You could feel his heartbeat, its steady rhythm grounding you. Slowly, you began to calm down and he relaxed his grip as your breathing returned to normal. Still, he didn’t release you completely; his hands rubbed your arms soothingly as he continued to watch you with concern.

“Oh, god…it was so real,” you said, your voice wavering. You hadn’t had a nightmare that vivid in a while. You were no stranger to violence, but it had been a while since you had been exposed to it; you must have been triggered by the events earlier that day.

“I’m so sorry, Bu—”

“Shh, you have nothing to be sorry for. Trust me, I understand about nightmares.” Bucky looked at you, his expression complex. “Can I ask what it was about?”

You hesitated. You didn’t want to think about it, let alone talk about it. Your past was like Pandora’s box—once it was opened you weren’t sure you could stop all the darkness and pain that would spill out.

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but sometimes it helps. It helped me. I just…I hate to see you hurting like this, and I want to help you if I can.”

You curled into his side and shuddered—you felt like you were five years old all over again. Bucky didn’t say anything more, he just held you and rubbed his hand up and down your arm. His presence was so soothing to you, and despite everything that had happened that night you still felt closer to him than anyone you had ever known.

“M-my dad was an alcoholic…He…I loved my mother, but he had this darkness in him, and when he drank it got the better of him.”

The words ripped from you, haltingly at first and then tumbling out as if they couldn’t be stopped. With them came a flood of tears, and Bucky held you tightly has you re-lived the memory of your mother being beaten to death in front of you. Your father had been in a drunken rage that night. You had been a difficult child, with strange abilities that often caused problems, and he hated you—you were a freak. More than that he despised the way your mother stood up for you. It had finally bubbled over that night, and after he had finished with her he had turned on you. He would have killed you too, if a neighbor hadn’t heard your screams and called the police.

Sobs wracked your body. You had never told that to anyone, and it was almost more than you could bear. Bucky continued to hold you, rubbing his hand across your back gently. You could feel his jaw clench in anger, and the metal plates shifted in his arm as he struggled to maintain his composure.

“How old were you?” he asked hoarsely.

“F-five,” you sniffed, wiping at your face and trying to regain control of yourself. “After that CPS put me in a foster home, and I was in the system for a while. I went through a couple different homes, but…I know there are some good ones out there, but I wasn’t that lucky.”

You shuddered. You weren’t ready to talk about that part yet, or what came after. Bucky didn’t say anything, he just continued to hold you, silently encouraging you to draw the poison from your soul.

“I ran away when I was fourteen and lived on the streets for a while. I struggled. I met some people, and they sort of became my family, but I…they weren’t good people, and I did a lot of bad things when I was with them. I…”

You felt the tears start again, but this time they were tears of shame. Bucky pulled you close again, whispering soothing words to you, but instead of comforting you they just made you angry. Angry at yourself—you didn’t deserve his comfort, or his kindness. Gently but firmly you pushed him away and sat on the edge of the bed, facing forward.

“I’m not a good person, Bucky. I’ve hurt people and done a lot of things I’m ashamed of, things I can never take back. I-I can’t talk about those things right now, I’m too much of a coward. Ever since I got my head straight I’ve been trying to make amends for what I’ve done, and that’s why I’m here. This is important to me. But don’t—please don’t—feel sorry for me. I don’t deserve it.”

You exhaled sharply and wiped angrily at your face. “God, I’m such a mess.”

Bucky huffed and moved to sit next to you on the edge of the bed. He gently held your hand, his metal fingers intertwining with yours, and when you looked up at him you were shocked to see his eyes were red with unshed tears of his own. His mouth twitched at the corners, and he looked at you with infinite sadness and understanding.

“I don’t think you’re a mess, Y/N, and I don’t think you’re a bad person. I see who you are now, after everything you’ve been through, and you’ve shown me nothing but kindness and trust. I’ve done horrible things as the Winter Soldier, and I understand about trying to atone for something you can never take back.”

“But you didn’t have a choice. I did.”

“Didn’t sound like you had much of a choice either.” Bucky shook his head. “And even if you did, what matters is the person you are now, and what you’re doing to try to fix it.”

He reached up and tucked your hair behind your ear, caressing his thumb over your cheek. “I care…a lot about you, Y/N. I think you have a good heart, and I’m glad you’re here with us. I know you don’t think you deserve it, but I want to help you--let me.”

His words sent the blood rushing to your cheeks, and you felt that familiar heat coil within you again. You knew he hadn’t meant it that way, of course. Still, his words meant a lot to you and you felt the corners of your mouth tug into a small smile.

“Thank you, Bucky.”

“Come here,” he said, laying back against the pillows and pulling you with him. He wrapped you in his arms, the heat from his body calming you and making you sleepy.

Your breathing began to even out, and right before you fell asleep you thought you felt him press a tender and caring kiss to your temple.

But you could have been wrong about that, too.


	8. Chapter 8

It was still dark when Bucky opened his eyes, and it took him a second to remember where he was, and who he was with. Suddenly the events of last night came back to him; the awkward near-kiss, Y/N’s nightmare, and her vulnerability as she finally opened up to him about her past. He looked down at the still figure lying next to him, and his breath caught in his throat.

She was laying on her side, her back pressed up against his chest, and she was holding his arm to her as if it was a stuffed animal. His metal arm. Seeing her clutch at it—a part of himself that he hated and that had caused so much pain—with such tenderness did something to him. His hand was pressed lightly to her chest, and he could feel the steady cadence of her heartbeat through the sensitive metal fingers. It was both intimate and comforting.

Bucky cared deeply for her. He had been lying to himself last night when he said he would be able to forget those feelings, because he couldn’t. He had never fallen so hard or so fast for anyone, but it didn’t scare him. The only thing he was afraid of was pushing too hard and losing her, because that wasn’t an option anymore.

He thought back to the whirlwind of the previous night. So many things made sense now. He had mistaken her actions last night as romantic feelings, but they had simply been the tender caring trust of someone who has found a true friend for the first time in their lives. He understood her, because they were a lot alike. Sure, he once had Steve, but Steve had abandoned him, something that still hurt him to think about.

She may not share his feelings, but it still meant a lot to him that she had finally opened up about her past, as horrible as it was. His jaw clenched in fury as he remembered everything she had gone through, and he knew she hadn’t even told him everything yet. She was such an incredibly strong woman; to endure what she had, survive the mistakes she had made, and still emerge with a kind and caring soul took a very special person.

Freak. That word had broken his heart when he heard her say it, because even though it had been that monstrosity of a father calling her that name, he knew that she believed it--that she _was_ a freak. Bucky knew what that did to a person, because he often felt that way himself. She had been beaten down and on the run her entire life from that moment on; she said things had gotten worse after that, but Bucky didn’t have the heart to imagine her enduring anything worse. Whatever it was had been enough to drive her into the arms of the people who had led her down a dark and twisted path. She had been through so much—they both had.

Gently, so as not to wake her, he tightened his grip on her, drawing her closer. He nuzzled her hair, breathing in her scent and kissing the back of her neck with a feather-light touch. He let out a small shuddering sigh, imagining kissing the way he really wanted to.

Bucky closed his eyes, content to lay there with her in his arms until the sun came up, but there were things to be done. He was a wanted man in this country, and there were possibly Hydra agents still after them—it still unnerved him how easily they had been discovered at the Hydra Base. He couldn’t afford to be distracted; he had to protect Y/N, not only because it was his job, but because she was now the most precious thing to him.

As he sat up, his phone vibrated with another text from Sam—the Quinjet would be touching down in the woods on the edge of town within the hour. Bucky leaned down and gently shook Y/N’s shoulder, resisting the urge to caress her face and kiss her awake. Her eyes fluttered open, and she sleepily looked at him with a naked affection that melted his heart. 

“Hey…how’re you feeling? You okay?” he asked, casually brushing the hair back from her forehead.

“I’m all right, I should be asking you how _you_ are…” She sat up and groaned, pressing a hand to her head. “I’m sorry about last night Bucky, you shouldn’t have had to deal with all of that. You’re all shot up and here I am, word-vomiting my past all over you…”

“It’s okay Y/N, really…like I said, I understand about nightmares. I’m glad I could be there to help you, and I’m glad you told me. I think you _should_ talk to someone about these things, it’s not healthy to keep it all bottled up…especially with our line of work.”

She nodded. “Yeah, you’re right, I should probably see a therapist or something…can’t have me losing my head in the field every time a see a little blood, huh?”

Her self-deprecating insecurity was killing him. “No, no—that’s not what I meant at all. I thought you were amazing yesterday—”

“That’s nice of you to say, but I get it. I’ll talk to Sam when we get back and see about getting in contact with a therapist.”

_Me…I meant you can talk to me…_

“How are you feeling?” she asked, interrupting his thoughts. “Are you in a lot of pain? I know pain meds don’t work, but if there’s anything I can do…”

Bucky smiled, touched at her genuine concern. “Super soldier healing, remember? It barely hurts anymore.”

He lifted his shirt and peeled off the bandage, and she gasped. The wound was already beginning to knit together, the shiny new skin making the wound look days old instead of hours. Y/N shook her head.

“Sometimes I forget who you are.” She stopped and blushed. “I-I don’t mean that in a bad way, it’s just that you seem like such a normal guy. I mean…definitely not what _I’m_ used to, but normal in a good way, I guess…sorry, I’m rambling.”

She stood, nervously brushing at her thighs. “I guess I should get ready, Sam will probably be here soon, huh?”

Bucky cleared his throat. “Um, yeah…he said he’d be here in about an hour, so we should get going.”

Having already showered the previous night, Y/N began laying out her clothes and packing her bag while Bucky took a shower. The hot water felt good; he felt disgusting after everything yesterday, and he kicked himself for not taking a shower last night. Then again, he had been a bit distracted.

Normal. She said he seemed like a normal guy.

Bucky hadn’t felt like a normal person since 1943—since before the war. It had been a long time since anyone had looked at him without seeing his metal arm or the horrible things he had done under Hydra. He sometimes felt like whatever was left of James Buchanan Barnes, that naive young boy from Brooklyn, was just a sliver, easily overshadowed by the man he had become. Bucky wasn’t kidding himself; that boy was long gone, destroyed by Hydra. But if _she_ could see him that way then maybe, just maybe, he could get a little more of that back…feel like a normal person once again.

Bucky stepped out of the shower and dressed, his soul feeling lighter. He exited the bathroom and stopped in surprise; Y/N had already packed both bags and tidied up the room. All evidence of their stay had been erased—the blood had been cleaned up, the trash gathered, the towels folded neatly, and the bed made. He stared open-mouthed at her, and she shrugged shyly.

“Um, so I cleaned up everything, I also wiped down any surface we might have touched…I don’t know if fingerprints are a big thing, or if that’s just something they do in movies, but you’re a wanted man here, so…can’t be too careful, right?”

Bucky laughed and shook his head. “Y/N, you’re efficient, I’ll give you that.”

Honestly, he was astounded by her thoughtfulness and attention to detail. She was going to make a great addition to the team, in more ways than one. He scooped up the duffle bag as well as her backpack, ignoring her protests.

“What, you’ve got like three things in here…I think I can manage it,” he said, scanning the area outside before opening the door. Hearing her mutter something about bull-headed super soldier showoffs under her breath, he smirked and led the way across the parking lot and into the woods.

***

You sighed and settled back into the crew seat of the Quinjet, glad to be headed home. Your first trip abroad had been an eventful one to say the least.

Sam had sent a pilot to transport you and Bucky back to the Compound, and Bucky had seemed glad—he seemed to be bracing himself for an ass-chewing from the new Captain America. You liked Sam, he had been very nice to you and had taken everything about your past in stride, but if he was going to blame Bucky for this you were going to let him have it, Captain America or not. You had _both_ decided to push on from London, and you weren’t going to let him take the blame for it.

Bucky was seated next to you this time instead of across the aisle, and you certainly didn’t mind. The tension that had been present between you two last night seemed to have evaporated with the dawn. His leg was lightly brushing yours as he checked the messages on his phone, and you resisted the urge to run your hands down his muscled thigh.

God! Why did he have to be so perfect?

Last night had cleared up a lot of things for you. Bucky was such a good friend; truly the best friend you had ever known, despite not knowing him for long. You were so unaccustomed to having someone take care of you, to listen and not judge you, that you felt yourself falling for him even more.

You sighed, and he looked up at you. “Ready to get home?”

“Yeah, I guess. It’s been pretty crazy…You sure do know how to show a girl a good time, Barnes,” you said with a sarcastic smile.

“If you thought that was fun, you’ll have to come out with me sometime so I can show you what a good time really is, doll.”

His face was serious, but his blue eyes twinkled and you blushed, unsure if he was joking or not—surely he had to be joking.

_Don’t get your hopes up, Y/N. You’re acting like a blushing teenager with a crush._

Casually, you switched topics. “So, that drawing I made at the Hydra Base…can you explain to me what that was all about? We kinda had to get outta there in a hurry.”

Bucky cleared his throat and pulled out the picture, folding back the corner with his blood on it. You took it, running your fingers over the figures of Zemo and the hooded man.

“Well, that’s Zemo, but the hooded man…I don’t know. His clothes look familiar, but I can’t place them. Maybe Sam can,” Bucky said, shrugging. “As for the rest, locating souls and transferring something, needing more energy…that doesn’t make any sense.”

“It sounded like they were attempting to transfer something, and the hooded man needed more energy to do it. That word, pleb…could they be talking about people?”

Bucky shook his head. “I’m not sure what that word means.”

“It’s a little derogatory, it means a person of lower social class. It’s kind of an old term, people don’t really use it anymore.”

He raised an eyebrow at you, and you shrugged. “I read a lot.”

“Well, if that’s what it means, then it sounds like Zemo is bringing the hooded man people so he can use them as energy to transfer something, although where souls come in I have no idea.”

“What about that part about unlocking the Winter Soldier Program?” you asked gently. Once again, Bucky had a visceral reaction to hearing those words.

“He…Zemo said he would do whatever it takes,” Bucky said softly, his voice bitter. “That the hooded man was one key to unlocking the program, and whatever they were transferring was the other.”

He shivered and ran a hand through his hair. “We can’t let him do that. Zemo was never affiliated with Hydra, but he hates the Avengers. He…he already got his hands on me once, and I can’t let that happen again.”

Bucky’s metal fist clenched and the plates shifted, telegraphing his agitation. You remembered the incident from the news a few years ago so you didn’t press him, but he seemed to want to talk about it.

“Zemo, he…he had my Red Book, with my trigger words. He activated me, but he was only using me as a distraction, as a way to divide the Avengers and get us to fight amongst ourselves.” Bucky stared, his eyes glazed and distant. “My trigger words are gone now, and Arnim Zola is dead, so I don’t know how he could possibly activate me or make more Soldiers, but if he found a way…”

He swallowed thickly. “Y/N, I hurt people. I hurt my friends. I could have killed someone. I’m not myself when the Winter Soldier takes over, and if he found a way to…if I ever…if anything ever happened to you…”

You could see Bucky starting to panic, so you reached up and cupped his face with both your hands. It hurt to see the depth of fear in his eyes, and you ran your thumbs lightly over his cheekbones. Bucky sighed into your touch, visibly relaxing.

“Bucky, hey—it’s all right. We’re going to stop Zemo. We’re going to stop both of them. They’re not going to hurt you…I won’t let them.”

It sounded silly, you weren’t anything special and here you were, promising to protect a super soldier from an evil mastermind. Bucky didn’t seem to think it silly, however.

“We’ll look out for each other, Y/N. I’m not going to let anything happen to you either.”

You smiled and he took your hand in his, leaning his head back against the headrest. The conversation drifted to lighter topics, and soon you were both giggling and talking animatedly, the horrors of Zemo and the Winter Soldier program temporarily forgotten. Through it all he continued to hold your hand, your flesh and his metal fingers intertwined.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: Fluff, a bit of Angst, Hurt/Comfort
> 
> Series Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Depression, References to Drug use, References to Rape/NonCon, Angst, Fluff

Sam sat at the head of the conference table as Bucky caught up to speed on everything they had found on their mission. He didn’t say a word as they handed him the drawings and hard drive, although he ran his fingers thoughtfully over the image of the mysterious hooded man. Bucky was right—he did look familiar.

Y/N fidgeted nervously in her seat, looking back and forth between Bucky and him. He supposed she was waiting for him to yell at Bucky for leaving the country against his direct order, but he wasn’t going to do that in front of her. Besides, despite the risk, he was proud of them both for taking the initiative and uncovering what they did.

He had to admit, they made a great team.

“That’s about it, Sam,” Bucky said, sitting back and running a hand through his hair. “The only thing we can’t figure out is how they knew we were there. You know how careful I am, and there weren’t any sensors or anything—I checked.”

Y/N opened and closed her mouth as if debating whether to speak or not.

“What is it, Y/N? Do you have something to add?” Sam asked.

“Um, well, I’m not sure if it’s really important or not, but when we entered the bunker I felt…well, it felt almost like I passed through something, like an invisible wall. For a second, I felt like I do right before I astral travel, but the next second it was gone. Bucky said he didn’t feel anything, though.”

Sam looked at Bucky and raised his eyebrows, and Bucky shook his head.

“I don’t know Sam, I checked the perimeter but I didn’t see or feel anything. We don’t really understand Y/N’s powers or why she has them, maybe she’s more sensitive to something we’re not.”

“What, like someone put a forcefield around the bunker or something?”

“I don’t know, maybe…”

Sam sighed and gathered the papers and hard drive into a neat pile.

“Well, we’ll just file that under ‘weird shit about this case we need to figure out.’ I’m gonna send the hard drive down to the IT department and see what they can get off of it, and we should be able to track the tail number of the plane from this other picture. As for the mysterious ‘hooded man’…I don’t know. I’ll ask around, do some digging.

“I hate to say it, because you guys both went against my direct orders, but—” he held up a finger, silencing them both as they started to protest. “You guys did a great job. Y/N, I think you’ve officially earned a spot on the Team.”

Y/N beamed, and Bucky nudged her playfully, sporting a proud smile of his own.

“As of tomorrow you’ll start your training program with Agent Carter. Go head down to supply and they can get you kitted out.”

“Thanks, Sam,” she said as she got up to leave.

Sam noticed Bucky watching her as she walked out of the conference room, a small smile still on his face. Sam narrowed his eyes.

“She sure is quite the woman, isn’t she?” he asked pointedly.

Bucky didn’t get the hint. “She really is…that was a lot to throw at someone on their first mission, and she handled it like a champ. We wouldn’t have known about Belgium or Hydra, or really any of it without her. Kept her head when things went south, patched me up when I got hurt…she even thought to cover our tracks without me telling her to. She’s gonna make a great addition to the team.”

Bucky was rambling, and he couldn’t hide the smitten look on his face. Sam leaned back and folded his arms over his chest.

“Shit…you’re in love with her, aren’t you?”

“Wh-what? No, I’m not!”

Sam shook his head. “Just be careful man, and make _sure_ before you do anything. Don’t break her heart—that girl’s been through enough, and we need her head in the game.”

Bucky looked thunderstruck, sitting as if turned to stone as Sam chuckled and clapped him on the shoulder on his way out of the conference room.

***

Sharon Carter was one tough lady.

You were a week into your SHIELD Recruit Training, and you were already tired of going to bed bruised and sore. Your brain felt like it was squishing out of your ears with all the information you were supposed to memorize, and you never felt like you got enough sleep. On top of it all, Sam occasionally had you Find for him as the IT department uncovered new clues from the hard drive.

Yet despite all that, you had never been happier. You were finally doing something positive with your life, and you were surrounded by a great group of people, some of whom you could now count as your friends.

Wanda was one of the Avengers you had met your first day of training, and you had hit it off immediately. You had been surprised how friendly she was; you had seen her around before and she always seemed cold and aloof, but you knew now she was just naturally shy. She had been through a lot, just like you, and besides Bucky, she was probably the closest friend you had made.

You didn’t see much of Bucky during the days. Sharon kept you busy—training in the gym, weapons familiarity at the range, tactical and covert operations concepts in the classroom. You missed him during the day, but you had both ended up spending almost every evening together. He was so enthusiastic about your training, volunteering to help you study and sparring with you in the gym to improve your technique.

Sometimes when you needed a break you would just sit together, watching tv or talking. He had even taken you up on the roof a couple nights ago, to show you the telescope Dr. Banner had recently installed. It was certainly a memorable night, and the two of you stayed up a lot later than you should have, talking about your favorite subject. 

You had finally accepted the crush you had on the super soldier, even if the feelings were unreciprocated. Every casual touch, every teasing sideways glance, every time his nose scrunched up when he laughed hard…if he only knew what he was doing to you. You knew it probably wasn’t wise to pine after someone you could never have, but for the time being you were content to let it be.

Tonight it was raining hard, so you were both cuddled up together on the couch, watching _The Martian_. Bucky had seen it for the first time a few days ago; he had loved all the science behind the movie, and it had quickly become one of his favorites.

Bucky was stretched out at one end of the couch with you snuggled under one arm, a light blanket covering you both. His metal hand was idly rubbing your shoulder, and his chin rested against the top of your head. It was an arrangement that bordered on intimacy--one that neither of you had noticed nor commented on.

Despite the intimacy of your arrangement on the couch, there was no tension between the two of you. At least, not until Wanda and Sam came into the common room and plopped down on the couch next to you.

Wanda had been quick to point out your crush and had been teasing you relentlessly in private ever since. She gave you a pointed glance as she sat down opposite you, wrapping herself in her own blanket.

“ _The Martian_ again? Ugh, you two are such nerds,” Sam complained.

“Bucky picked the movie.”

“Well then, he’s a nerd.”

You grinned up at Bucky. “Yeah, but he’s my nerd.” You had snuggled your head back against him so you didn’t see the blush that crept into his cheeks or hear Wanda’s stifled giggle.

***

Two days later you were back in the gym with Sharon. Your training was almost complete, and today she was throwing everything she had at you. You had improved quite a lot since you first started; you were no Black Widow, but you did feel like you could now hold your own in a fight.

Back and forth you sparred. You were blocking each of her attacks and had actually managed to land a few of your own. The late night training with Bucky was clearly paying off. You could see her face getting flushed in irritation as her hits came faster and a little harder.

It was taking all of your concentration to keep up with her now. She had you steadily on the defensive, and you struggled to find an opening to attack. Sharon launched a punch at your midsection and you twisted nimbly away, taking the opportunity to hit her with an uppercut straight to the jaw.

You heard a bark of laughter and your head snapped up. Bucky had wandered over to the mats and was standing with his arms folded across his chest, watching with a proud gleam in his eye. You hadn’t noticed him come over, and your face flushed seeing him now.

That second of hesitation was all Sharon needed. Out of the corner of your eye you saw her fist come flying at your face and you ducked sloppily, inadvertently stepping right into the path of her kick. Her foot connected solidly with your midsection, and you grunted as the breath was driven from you. You stumbled backward off the edge of the mat, trying to catch yourself with legs that didn’t seem to want to work right. Your head snapped back as you fell, smacking the unprotected floor hard as everything went black.

***

“Y/N! Y/N!”

You could distantly hear someone calling your name, the voice sounding muffled as if underwater. Strong hands gripped your shoulders and caressed your face, probing painfully at the back of your head. You tried to open your eyes and take a breath, but nothing seemed to be working right.

Your chest hitched as you struggled to breathe, your spasming lungs refusing to let air in. Eyelids fluttering in panic, you clutched at your chest and rolled over into the fetal position.

“Y/N! Y/N, breathe…please sweetheart, just take a breath for me.”

Bucky was there, his voice edged with panic as you felt him lift you in his arms. Your body spasmed and your head tilted back, your throat working as you tried to suck in air.

“Sharon, she can’t—go get some help! C’mon Y/N, breathe!”

“Barnes, relax. She just got the wind knocked out of her, give her a minute.”

Finally, it was like something released in your chest and you gasped, gulping down air greedily and blinking back tears of relief. Your eyes fluttered open to see Bucky leaning over you, his grey-blue eyes frantic with worry.

“Oh, thank god,” Bucky murmured, clutching you to him. You tried to say something but dissolved into a coughing fit.

“Shh…don’t try to talk right now Y/N, just take a couple of deep breaths, in and out…that’s it.”

“See, I told you she’s okay.” Sharon sounded aloof, but you could hear a hint of concern and embarrassment in her tone.

Bucky’s head snapped up. “Why’d you hit her so hard?” he growled as he brushed the hair out of your eyes protectively.

“She got distracted—by you, I might add. This is training, Barnes. If she can’t stay on her toes and take the hits in here, how’s she gonna hack it out in the field? I’m not gonna go easy on her just because you’ve got a thing for her.”

Bucky sputtered indignantly. You weakly pushed his hands away, already embarrassed enough; you were concentrating so hard on just trying not to look like a complete idiot that Sharon’s comment didn’t register with you at all.

“I’m fine Bucky,” you rasped as you tried to sit up. Pain flared along the left side of your chest and a wave of dizziness and nausea washed over you. Bucky saw, and you groaned as he lowered you back to the mat.

“Nope, you are definitely _not_ fine,” he said, probing gently at your ribs as you winced. He lightly cupped your cheek and looked down at you in concern, his blue eyes flicking back and forth between yours.

“How do you feel, dizzy? Nauseous?”

“All of the above,” you said placing a hand over your eyes to block out the overhead lights that suddenly seemed too bright.

Bucky nodded. “All right, you’re goin’ to medical,” he said as he lifted you in his arms. You yelped and struggled against him feebly, feeling like you were going to die of embarrassment.

“Bucky put me down. I can walk.”

“Not with a concussion and broken ribs you’re not.”

“Stubborn ass,” you muttered.

“Said the pot to the kettle.”

Bucky smirked down at you. He seemed to have calmed down somewhat, but his eyes were still full of concern and another emotion you couldn’t place. You let out a resigned sigh and leaned your head against his chest, secretly glad he was so insistent. Your head was splitting, your side ached, and you felt like you would probably throw up if you had to walk right now.

You felt your eyes grow heavy as your thoughts drifted. Bucky was so perfect. He was kind and gentle and funny, and oh he was so sexy, cradling you in his arms protectively, completely oblivious to how handsome he was, how his sculpted muscles moved beneath his thin gym shirt as he carried you.

You resisted the crazy urge to kiss him—you still felt dizzy, and it was probably a bad idea. His grip was strong and comforting, the warmth from his body and his scent lulling you to sleep. He must have noticed your eyes slip closed, because he shook you gently, rousing you.

“Hey—don’t you fall asleep on me Y/N.”

You hummed, nuzzling his chest. “Too bad, I could stay right here forever.”

Your words were slurred and he looked down at you in concern, even as a deep blush crept into his cheeks.

“You’ve got to stay awake, doll,” he said as your eyes slipped closed again. “We’re almost there. Just talk to me.”

“I like you, Bucky,” you slurred. “You’re so nice to me…you’re such a good person...and you’re so…so pretty…”

Bucky stiffened, and he let out a nervous laugh. “I guess you hit your head harder than we thought, huh?”

“Huh?”

He chuckled. “Never mind, doll, we’re here.”

Dr. Helen Cho was waiting as Bucky walked into the med center. “Sharon called, she told me what happened.”

Bucky gently set you on the bed she indicated. “She hit her head pretty hard, she lost consciousness there for a couple minutes, and she’s slurring her words pretty good. _And_ I think she might have some broken ribs on her left side,” he said, running a hand through his hair in agitation.

“We’ll take good care of her, Sergeant Barnes,” Helen said, shining a light into both of your eyes.

Bucky shifted on his feet, brushing at his hair anxiously. He finally settled himself in a chair in the corner, not wanting to leave your side.

_“Pardon the interruption Dr. Cho, but Captain Wilson is requesting Sergeant Barnes’ presence in the conference room.”_

Bucky stiffened in irritation. “Does he need me right now, FRIDAY?”

_“I’m afraid so, Sergeant. It seems that the analysis of the hard drive recovered during your latest mission is complete. He is quite insistent you meet him.”_

“Go Buck, I’m fine…really,” you said as you smiled reassuringly at him. “Go see what Sam found, this is important.”

Bucky stood and squeezed your shoulder reluctantly. “All right, I’ll come find you after, okay?”

“’M ‘kay…”

***

The meeting took a lot longer than Bucky expected. The hard drive hadn’t yielded as much information as they had hoped for, but what it did contain confirmed their suspicions.

Helmut Zemo was indeed the new head of Hydra, and he did intend to re-instate the Winter Soldier program—to what end, they had no idea yet. There were many references to Arnim Zola; a good bit about his research, but most of the information about him had been about his whereabouts and activities during the final years of his life. It seemed Zemo had been looking for something Zola may have created and hidden somewhere in New York.

New York City. Right now, it looked like the city was ground zero for the hunt for Zola’s legacy and Zemo’s new base of operations. There were a few addresses, one in particular to an abandoned warehouse near the Brooklyn Navy Yard that looked promising. No references to the identity of the hooded man yet, but Sam intended to investigate the warehouse in a couple days in the hopes to continue the trail.

It was a lot to take in, especially about Zemo and the Winter Soldier program, but right now the only thing on Bucky’s mind was Y/N. His thoughts had kept drifting to her all throughout the meeting. He had been worried sick about her, seeing her take that hit and drop to the floor lifelessly; he could still hear the sickening thud as her head smacked against the hard surface.

Sam’s words earlier had stuck in his mind, and he found he could stop thinking about them, either. Because after everything—after all the endless conversations, all the teasing that had them both dissolving into giggles, all the late night cuddling on the couch, after the _fear_ he felt today when he saw her fall—Bucky knew that he loved her, more than he had ever loved anyone. She had captured his heart and his soul, and he intended to do something about it.

Y/N wasn’t in the med center when he checked; to his surprise she had checked herself out of the med bay as soon as Helen had finished with her, refusing all pain meds. The doctor had shrugged, saying she couldn’t force the girl to stay. She didn’t agree with it, but Y/N said Wanda would stay the night with her, so she reluctantly let her leave. Bucky checked his watch—it was late, but he couldn’t go to bed without checking up on her first.

He knocked on Y/N’s door, his brow creasing when it took her a while to answer. She opened the door, rubbing her eyes and blinking at him.

“Bucky, hey…” she said sleepily. She looked absolutely adorable, wearing an oversized sweatshirt that hung off one shoulder and leggings, her hair gathered in a loose messy-bun.

“Hey, sorry, the meeting ran late and I just wanted to check up on you…sorry if I woke you.”

“That’s okay Buck, did you guys find out anything?”

“We found out a couple things, but it can wait until morning…is Wanda in there with you?” Bucky tried to peer past her into the room, but he already knew the answer.

“No, I’m not going to make her stay with me all night, that’s silly.”

“It’s not silly, you told Dr. Cho you would have her stay with you tonight—that’s the only reason she let you leave the med center,” Bucky scolded lightly. He tilted his head so he could look her in the eye, searching for a sign that she was hurting. “How are you feeling? Helen said you refused the pain meds.”

“It’s just a concussion and bruised ribs Buck, I didn’t even break them. And I’m not a fan of drugs. Really, I feel like everyone is making a big deal of this—hey, what are you doing?”

Bucky had pushed past her into the room, grabbing her pillow and a couple blankets from the bed. “Y/N, you’re supposed to be woken every two hours with a concussion, Helen told you that,” he lectured. “If you don’t want to follow the rules the easy way, then we’ll do it the hard way. You’re sleeping out in the common room tonight, and _I’ll_ wake you.”

“Bucky—”

“Can it Y/N, you’re not gonna win.”

“God, your stubborn,” she huffed.

She followed him out into the hall, grumbling petulantly all the way. Bucky tried to maintain his seriousness—after all, he really _was_ concerned about her, and there was no way he was going to chance her sleeping by herself tonight—but he couldn’t stop his lips from twitching into a grin. God, he loved this woman; she could be so stubborn sometimes, but under the layers of insecurity and sarcasm was a strong and beautiful woman who could handle anything.

“Here,” he said, arranging the blankets for her on the bigger of the two couches. “This one was made for Banner, so it’s pretty much as big as a bed anyway.”

He sat at the opposite end of the couch to give her some space, but he was surprised when instead she snuggled up next to him, turning on the tv and drawing the blanket over them both.

“What are you doing?” he asked. “I thought you were tired.”

“Well, you made me mad and now I’m wide awake, so you’re just going to have to deal with me.”

“You’re mad at me?” Bucky asked innocently, but he couldn’t hide the smirk that crept across his face.

“No, you dork, but I am awake, so now get prepared for an _Ancient Aliens_ marathon until I’m good and tired again.”

Bucky chuckled. “Well, I’m not gonna complain if you want to cuddle with me, doll, but you’ve got to admit, this show is terrible.”

“I know, that’s why I like it.”

They lapsed into silence for a while, although Bucky wasn’t really watching the tv--he was watching her. Everything in him was screaming at him to kiss her, but he still hesitated; despite her snarky banter earlier, he was sure she probably still felt pretty awful after that hit today.

Still, he couldn’t tear his eyes from her. He gently caressed her shoulder, and she hummed contently and leaned her head against his shoulder. Her hand came up to rest lightly on his thigh, and Bucky had to stifle a shiver. His heart was pounding against his ribs so hard and so fast he wondered if she could hear it. He couldn’t stand it anymore; he felt like he was going to go crazy if he didn’t do something.

“Y-Y/N,” he rasped, his voice husky and low.

He didn’t know what he had planned to do, but when she looked up at him, her eyes dark with desire and her chest heaving, he realized that she wanted this just as much as he did. She leaned towards him, and Bucky’s eyes fluttered closed as their lips met. His hand reached up to cup her face, drawing her closer as his lips parted beneath hers.

He felt her tongue flick across his bottom lip and he moaned into her mouth as she deepened the kiss. She tasted soft and sweet, and when he felt her hands run across his chest and clutch at his shirt he felt a flame ignite deep within him, so intense he feared it would burn him alive.

They broke away, panting for breath, and Bucky pressed his forehead to hers. He smiled and tenderly brushed his thumb along her cheekbone as he looked up at her.

“I have been wanting to do that for so long, it was just about killing me,” he murmured.

Despite the radiant adoration in her eyes, she frowned in confusion. “You mean, at the motel…in Belgium…but I thought it was just me that wanted…”

Bucky’s eyes widened when he realized what she had admitted, and he chuckled. “I think we’ve both been a couple of idiots, doll.” He kissed her again, wrapping his arms around her and holding as tightly as he dared.

Y/N broke a way slightly, trailing kisses along his jaw that left him breathless. “Well, I’m glad we got it all straightened out now.”

“D-do you want to take this somewhere a little more private? I’m not propositioning you or anything,” he added hastily, “but if Sam sees us out here I’ll never hear the end of it. He called me out on it this morning.”

Y/N giggled. “Yeah, Wanda did too. I guess everyone could see it except for us.”

Bucky gathered the blankets and led the way back to his room, holding the door open for her. His head was spinning; now that he had a taste of her he wanted all of her, but at the same time he wanted to take it slow.

She seemed to be reading his mind, because she stopped and looked at him hesitantly. Bucky wrapped an arm around her waist and tilted her face up to him.

“What’s wrong, doll…talk to me.”

“Bucky, I…I really want you but I, um, I have sort of a complicated relationship with sex. Could we just take it slow…for a little bit?”

Bucky wasn’t sure what she meant by that but agreed wholeheartedly about taking things slow. This was one relationship he did not want to screw up.

“We can take it as slow as you want to, Y/N. This isn’t just some one-night stand for me, I’m here for the long haul—as long as you want me.”

He leaned down to gently kiss her forehead, but she caught his jaw with both hands and re-directed him to her lips for a sweet and lingering kiss that made the heat bloom once again. He reluctantly broke away and led her over to the bed, pulling the covers over them both.

Despite how much she clearly wanted to keep kissing him, he could see how tired she looked. Bucky reached up and grabbed his phone, setting the alarm for two hours. He rolled over and looked at her, his eyes shining in amazement and disbelief that she was actually here, in his bed.

“You should get some sleep, you look wore out,” he said, tenderly running his fingers through her hair.

Y/N hummed and closed her eyes against his touch. “I guess I am a little sleepy, now.”

He pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her as she settled into him with her head resting against his chest. She sighed happily, and in no time at all her breathing had deepened and she was fast asleep. Bucky lay awake for a while longer, holding her in his arms and unwilling to fall asleep just in case it had all been a dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally--the two idiots kissed!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: Fluff, references to drug use, references to rape, references to past murder
> 
> Series Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Depression, References to Drug use, References to Rape/NonCon, Angst, Fluff
> 
> A/N: This chapter contains references to the reader’s past. I like to give my readers some personality, and this may bother some people. Please heed the chapter and series warnings.

Your eyes opened slowly and immediately slammed closed against the bright sunlight that was peeking past the drapes. Simply put, you felt like shit. Your mouth was dry, and you felt like you’ve been run over by a truck—or had your ass kicked by a blond badass named Sharon.

You reached a hand up and rubbed your eyes, trying to ease the headache and fuzziness behind them. Your eyes blinked open again, and it was then that you realized you weren’t in your room.

You were in Bucky’s room…in his bed.

Bucky was lying next to you, one arm wrapped lovingly around you, carefully avoiding your bruised ribs. He looked so peaceful. You smiled tenderly as you watched him, admiring the long lashes against his cheeks and the gentle curve of his lips, his breath warm against your skin as he slept.

_“This isn’t just some one-night stand for me, I’m here for the long haul—as long as you want me.”_

Last night had really happened, then. Bucky had kissed you. He wanted to be with you, as long as you wanted him, and oh, you wanted him so badly. Sometime in between witnessing his frantically protective concern over you and your lips meeting his on that couch, you had finally admitted to yourself that you were in love with Bucky Barnes. He had stolen your heart, and you were going to try your hardest not to lose him.

You didn’t have the best track record when it came to relationships. Insecurity and self-sabotage usually got the better of you, and it didn’t help that most of the guys had been losers. Bucky was different, though. He was one of the good ones, and you were not about to let him go.

Bucky hummed and his eyes fluttered open, his lips twitching in a small smile that soon grew into a grin.

“Good morning,” you said, smiling back.

You could feel your face blushing and your smile must have been as wide as his, but it was hard not to when he looked at you like that. Bucky tenderly tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers tracing the lines of your cheekbones.

“Morning, beautiful. For a second there, I was afraid last night had just been a dream.”

You sighed happily. “You and me both.”

Bucky chuckled and bit his lower lip, his gaze dropping to your lips. He cupped your jaw and drew you into a deep kiss that left you breathless, punctuating it with several slow kisses along your jawline before returning to your lips. Your fingers carded through his hair, gripping his short brunette locks tightly, and you felt his lips part beneath yours, his sinful tongue making you moan.

Bucky’s hands slid down your sides, making you shiver. He wrapped his arms around you and rolled onto his back, taking you with him, and you stifled a hiss as his metal arm dug painfully into your bruised ribs. Bucky’s eyes went wide with concern and he immediately released you.

“I’m so sorry, doll, I got a little carried away. I forgot about—”

“It’s okay, Bucky.”

“Are you all right? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“I’m fine, really,” you said. “I’m not made of glass.”

“I know,” he said in a small voice. He suddenly looked so sad and scared.

“Bucky, what’s wrong?”

“I know, Y/N, I know you’re not made of glass. You’re the strongest person I know, but I…I could hurt you. This,” he said, holding up his metal hand in disgust, “ _this_ could hurt you. It’s been a while since it’s happened, but I have nightmares sometimes…s-sometimes I wake up and I don’t know where I am or _who_ I am, and God—I’m just so terrified I could hurt you. I would never forgive myself if anything happened to you.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched, and your heart broke seeing the depth of the fear in his eyes. “It’s not just that. You’ve really only seen me like this—happy—and honestly, it’s because of you. I’ve never felt this complete, this…at peace with myself. I didn’t think it was possible to feel this way anymore. I know you think I’m a normal guy, but I’m not. There’s this…this darkness in me…the darkness that Hydra put there. I get…angry, and moody. I push people away. And I don’t want to do that to you. Y/N I…I really care about you. I don’t want to hurt you.”

You were silent a moment. Bucky’s admission wasn’t exactly a surprise to you; you knew very well who he was and what Hydra had made him do. You felt a surge of anger towards the people who would take such a kind and gentle soul like Bucky and twist him into a monster against his will.

You reached out and took his metal hand in yours, pressing a kiss to his palm. Bucky closed his eyes and bit back a sob as you held his hand against your cheek.

“Bucky, you’re not going to hurt me. I understand your fears and your reservations, but…you’re not the only one who’s afraid. I think between the two of us we’ve got enough issues to keep a therapist employed for the rest of their lives.” Bucky’s lips twitched up in a smile.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered, his eyes liquid blue orbs that threatened to drown you.

“Yes you do,” you said simply. “What you said last night, about wanting to be with me for the long haul, that goes for me too, Bucky. I want to be with you. I choose you—all your perfections and imperfections, the light and the dark—I choose it all. You have a good heart, Bucky, and I trust you completely.”

Bucky exhaled sharply, and he looked at you with such open vulnerability that you wanted nothing more than to sweep him into your arms and shield him from all the evil in the world. He’d been through enough. You settled for a kiss, slowly and softly meeting his lips as you tried to put weight to your words. Bucky hummed and pulled you into his chest, nuzzling your hair as you both lay there, lost in your own thoughts. 

The buzzing of your phone roused you both, and you swiped it from the nightstand in irritation. It was an incoming text from Sharon, and you paused to make sure you read it correctly.

“Everything okay?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah…Sharon just green-lit me for the mission tomorrow.”

“You sound surprised.”

You frowned. “Well, after yesterday I didn’t think…I mean, I totally got my ass kicked.”

Bucky cocked an eyebrow at you. “To be fair, you were giving Sharon a run for her money, and I think she got a little pissed. I distracted you—she never would have landed that hit otherwise.”

“What can I say, you _are_ quite the distraction, Sergeant Barnes,” you said coyly.

Bucky chuckled and nipped at your throat, igniting a white heat in your core. He looked up at the clock and made a face.

“All right doll, we’ve got some work to do if you’re coming with tomorrow. I want to hit up the range and then go over a few advanced techniques in the gym.”

You bit your lip, uncertain. “You really think I’m ready?”

Bucky looked at your seriously. “Y/N, I thought you were ready long before Sharon and her little SHIELD training program. The way you handled yourself in London and Belgium, everything you’ve already done for us, everything you’ve been through…you’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. Stop doubting yourself.”

He swooped you up in his arms and pecked your cheek, making you giggle. “Besides, anyone that wants to hurt you is gonna have to get through me first, doll.”

***

It was late in the afternoon, and you and Bucky were cozily ensconced on the couch near the large bay window that looked out over the valley. Bucky was scribbling furiously in his notebook, deep in the throes of recording a newly-recalled memory. You watched him for a moment. He was completely oblivious to your gaze, his handsome features contorted in a look of utter concentration. Your heart swelled at the thought of how much you loved him, and the thought that he returned the sentiment, if not the intensity, of those feelings.

It was pouring rain, and dark enough to have the table lamps on even through it wasn’t that late. You set your book down in your lap, watching the rain streak down the window and send the landscape in to watery, wavy lines.

You thought back to what he had said to you that morning, about how scared he was. His soul was as fractured as yours, but at least he didn’t choose that life for himself. You, on the other hand, _had_ chosen, and you were scared for him to see where your choices had led.

In a depressing parade since you were five, the foster homes had gone from bad to worse, with your final home being by far the most horrible. Your foster father had started out by merely being handsy, making comments about what you wore and how you looked, but that had quickly disintegrated as well.

You were thirteen when he first touched you. You were so afraid of what he would do if you said anything, you had just let it happen; you would just close your eyes and pretend you were somewhere else.

By fourteen it was an almost nightly occurrence, and it probably would have gone on much longer if your social worker hadn’t gotten suspicious and made an unscheduled home visit. You heard later that he got 20 years at FCI Cumberland, a prison that you would ironically come to have an intimate knowledge of.

The thought of yet another foster home was too much for you to handle. In the end, you chose to take your chances on the streets; at least there you could be in control, or so you thought.

It was harder than you ever could have imagined. Cold and hungry one minute, fighting and running for your life with your meager possessions the next, you were never able to rest, never able to completely relax your guard.

You ended up in Baltimore, scrounging for scraps and living at a halfway house. Gabriel and his little gang had come soon after that, seeming like the answer to all your problems. They were enhanced like you were; freaks and outcasts, they welcomed you with open arms. Finally, you had a family—a sense of belonging.

Oh, how wrong that turned out to be. It had started simple; to be a part of the family meant you had to provide for the family, and you wanted to do your part. What you didn’t know was that they were thieves, taking from others to serve a bigger picture you could never quite see—or were allowed to see.

After the first job, you decided you didn’t care. The mark was wealthy businessman, and you were stealing information. You couldn’t care less what they were stealing, though. The look of fear in his eyes, the power and control you felt—for the first time in your life—it felt good.

You liked it.

You were Gabriel’s Finder. Finally, here was something you were good at, a place you belonged. He seduced you with power and the promise of love, preying on your insecurities. To Gabriel you were special. The others’ talents were useful, to be sure, but you outshone them at every turn. Especially when he started giving you the drugs.

It started as a suggestion, a way to enhance your already considerable power. You were wary at first, but you had trusted Gabriel and ultimately agreed. The drugs came from a little white packet with a funny red logo on it, like a tiny red octopus with a skull for a face. Thinking back now, you swore you had seen that logo recently, but you just couldn’t place it.

It didn’t take long for you to get hooked. The years that followed were a blur, and you could only remember bits and pieces. You were no longer a Finder. You were a Taker now, taking what you wanted, whenever and from whomever you wanted.

It all came to a shuddering halt ten years ago. Gabriel had gotten out of control, and the group was starting to doubt his motives. The last job you had taken part in was the worst of all. Gabriel was unhinged, and people had died as a result. A few were members of your group, people who were certainly not blameless, but people you had considered your friends, nonetheless.

The worst was the young couple that lay dead at your feet at the end of that horrible night—not by your hand, but by your inability to see the evil in Gabriel. You had tried to stop him in the end, and he had nearly killed you for your efforts. Then he was gone, slipping through the cracks like the snake he was.

You went to the police. You turned yourself in and gave up everything and everyone—the whole sordid mess. The next two years you spent behind bars was enough for you to get clean and realize you could either continue down this path on which you had been placed, or forge your own road to redemption.

You chose the latter.

And here you were, ten years later. You didn’t feel redeemed, but you felt more whole than you had in a long time. Especially with Bucky. You weren’t being fair to him, you knew, but you were afraid you would lose him if he knew the truth.

Sam knew everything; it had been a term of your employment, and the investigator had done a shockingly thorough job of dredging up your past. He hadn’t even batted an eye, even when facing the worst of it, and for that you had been grateful. Captain America had simply fixed you with that penetrating stare and told you that it was your choices from here on out that mattered to him, not your past.

You had realized quickly that he hadn’t said a word to Bucky; you were grateful for his silence, but you supposed that it would have been easier if he had. No, if you wanted Bucky to know, you were going to have to peel this scab off by yourself.

If only it were that easy.

“What’re you thinkin’ about, doll? I can hear the wheels turning in that pretty head from here.”

You looked up and saw that Bucky was staring at you, a look somewhere between concern and apprehension on his face. Willing your face into a smile, you were relieved to see him relax a bit, though his gaze didn’t waver from yours.

“Just getting too wrapped up in my head for my own good, I guess,” you said dismissively. You nodded at his notebook. “What’re you writing about? It looked pretty intense.”

“Just some more things about Steve, a memory from when we were younger.” He shifted nervously. “Actually, I was gonna ask you if you could Find for me again—it’s okay if you don’t want to though, I don’t want to push,” he added quickly, blushing.

Your gaze softened. You really didn’t deserve him. “Bucky, you don’t have to be nervous about asking, I’ll Find for you whenever you want. I want to help you.”

Bucky looked at you like you were an intricate puzzle he was only now beginning to figure out.

“Th-thank you, Y/N, it really means a lot to me.”

He watched as you gathered some paper and a pencil, laying them out on the coffee table and settling yourself on the floor. Bucky sat next to you, watching you with a look of pure adoration as he absently grazed his fingers along your shoulder. You shivered and looked up at him.

“Sorry, is it distracting? I don’t want to interfere with—”

You shut him up with a kiss, smiling against his lips. “Only distracting in a good way. Finding isn’t really about trying, it’s more of an…unbottling, I guess. I just open the door.” You kissed him again, grinning wickedly. “You don’t have to stop, I like it when you touch me.”

Bucky let out a breathy laugh and bit his lip. “Oh doll, you’re gonna be the death of me.”

One hour and several pictures later, you were still sitting on the floor together. Your butt had gone numb long ago, but you hadn’t wanted to move from your spot next to Bucky. He needed you right now.

The memories had been drawn from a Buffalo nickel from 1918 that Steve had carried as a good luck charm. They were good memories, and at first Bucky had been happily reminiscing. The mood quickly soured, however, and you realized what had been bothering him. He was trying to remember the better times when he was younger to get him past the pain of Steve leaving.

He sat there, running his fingers lovingly over the papers, his eyes red-rimmed with unshed tears. His jaw clenched and he startled a bit when you wrapped your arms around him, but he soon relaxed into your embrace with a small sigh.

“I’m sorry Bucky, I didn’t want to upset you.”

“No, it’s okay. I asked you to. I want to remember, it’s just that it…hurts, you know? I’ve been thinking a lot about Steve, I think it’s because we’re getting so close to Zemo, and now Hydra is involved again and I—" Bucky let out a shuddering breath and wiped his face. “Is it ever gonna end? They’ve taken everything…how much more do they want?”

You opened your mouth to say something, but Bucky continued. “Last time we were up against Zemo he was trying to rip us apart from the inside. Steve stood up for me, he gave up the shield for me…but in the end, he left me. I guess he was tired of saving my sorry ass.”

“Bucky—”

“No, I know…I’m wallowing. I can’t help it. After everything we went through together, all our history…” He shook his head. “Part of me gets it, you know? Peggy always was the one, and he finally had the chance to be with her. Now that I have you, I understand that more than ever.”

Bucky looked at you tenderly before his face clouded once again. “Part of me is hurt that he left, but part of me…” His throat worked and he looked down at the floor in shame. “Part of me _hates_ him for it. He…he went back there and lived for seventy years— _seventy years_ —knowing that I was being ripped apart by Hydra the whole time, piece by piece, and being remade into a monster. And he didn’t do a thing to change that. It hurts. It hurts worse than when he didn’t come for me after I fell from the train. He had a chance to take this darkness away, and he didn’t.”

Bucky clenched his fists and the plates in his arm shifted. He was nearly shaking with anger and hurt and pain. You didn’t know what to say; it was so horrible, you had never thought of it that way, and his complex relationship with Steve suddenly made sense. You pulled him close, hoping to sooth the pain from his troubled soul. Bucky gripped you tightly, holding on as if her were drowning.

“I’m ashamed to even say it out loud, but that’s how I feel,” he whispered against your neck. “I haven’t told that to anyone, not even Sam. Steve…Steve died a year ago. I was there, and I was so hurt and angry I could barely look him in the eye. He knew, I could tell. Part of me was glad he knew, but I wish…I wish it hadn’t ended it like that.”

You swallowed thickly. “You can’t live in the past, Bucky, trust me. Anger and remorse will tear you to pieces. What’s done is done, and maybe Steve knew that. I don’t know why he didn’t go back for you, or why he left, but however horrible it is, however much it hurts, you’re here now because of it. You still have a chance to be happy, and a chance to do good with your life.”

Bucky stared at you, his gaze vulnerable and needy. “You always see the good in me, don’t you?”

“It comes from seeing a lifetime of darkness. I think it makes it easier to see the beautiful things when they come, and that’s what you are to me. You’re a good man, Bucky, and I…I…I’m not letting you go.”

You tensed. You had almost said that you loved him, but you caught yourself at the last second. You did love him, you really did, but it wasn’t right or fair to put that out there when he didn’t even know everything yet.

Bucky didn’t seem to notice your tension. He was breathing heavily, his face inches away from yours. He was looking at you like you hung the stars and the moon, and his lips twitched as if he was struggling for the courage to say something.

“Y/N, I…I know we haven’t been together that long, but I—”

His mouth worked, but no sound came out. Finally, nerves got the better of him, and his lips crashed into yours. He cupped your face, pulling you onto his lap with his free arm. You could feel his heart pounding against your shoulder blade as he cradled you against him, and your head tilted back as his lips grazed your jawline.

Bucky’s fingers danced along your collarbone, pulling the loose collar of your shirt aside. You gasped as his lips lingered over your pulse point, biting you gently as he made his way down your neck and across your shoulder. He stifled a moan as you gripped his thigh, and he broke away, panting.

Bucky looked at you like he wanted to devour you on the spot, but the look was quickly replaced by a shy smile. He wanted more, you could tell, but he stopped himself out of respect for you. Your face flushed.

“I’m sorry, Bucky, I—”

He shook his head. “You don’t owe me any explanation or apology. Your pace, remember? I don’t want to do anything you’re not comfortable with. I know…there’s some things about your past that you’re reluctant to talk about, things that still affect you. I just want you to know you don’t have to talk about them until you’re ready.”

Bucky lightly kissed your shoulder, immediately putting you at ease. He absently ran his fingers down your arm, tracing over the lines of your tattoos as if seeing them for the first time.

Your left arm was a galactic patchwork of planets, constellations, and nebulas in stunning color with a black hole centered on your shoulder. Out of the black hole emerged tiny butterflies, circling your arm before disappearing across your shoulder blade. Bucky stared at the artwork, and you began to get nervous.

“D-Do they bother you?” You could imagine a full-sleeve tattoo on a female would be a bit shocking to a hundred-year-old man.

Bucky looked up at you and his brow furrowed. “No,” he said simply. “I mean, I know times are different now, and a lot of people have them. I’ve never been with a woman with tattoos, but I love them. They’re beautiful and unique…like you.”

You blew out a breath, your eyes watering instantly. No one had ever called you beautiful before. It was silly, you knew, to get so wrapped up around a word, but it meant so much to you, coming from him.

“Can I…Can I ask what they mean? Is that too personal?”

He was still tiptoeing around you, and you immediately felt bad. You smiled tight-lipped at him, wondering where you should begin.

“About, um, ten years ago…once I got my head on straight…I worked as a tattoo artist in New Bedford, Massachusetts for a while. I didn’t much care for the actual tattooing, but I liked drawing up the designs for clients--it felt good to do something I liked for once. I never thought much about getting tattoos, but it was a new chapter in my life, and I thought, what the hell, you know?

“I drew up the design on the back of a cereal box,” you said, laughing quietly. “I always loved the infinite consistency of space, as you know, so I wanted that to be a big part of it. The butterflies…” you trailed off.

This was harder than you thought it would be. Bucky was very still, your hand still held in both of his as he silently encouraged you to continue.

“I got a second chance at life. Most people don’t. I’m not sure if I deserve it, but I got it all the same. The butterflies are my second chance, emerging from the black hole that was my life before.”

Bucky held you. It was fully dark now, and you knew his ass had to be as numb as yours was. He seemed to be struggling whether or not to say something, so you remained quiet. You could feel the moment growing more serious with each passing second, the air thick with everything unsaid between the two of you.

Salvation came in the form of Bucky’s stomach, which growled loudly.

“Leave it to that super-soldier stomach of yours to break an awkward silence,” you said, giggling.

Bucky blushed adorably. “Yeah, I’m starving. You wanna order something?”

“You pick the place and I’ll pick the movie.”

Bucky wrinkled his nose. “That’s hardly fair, you know we’re both gonna want Chinese.”

“Yeah, but I’m more well-versed in sci-fi movies.”

“Okay, dork, what’s your pick?” he teased.

You thought a minute. “Apollo-13. Great cast, science-y, and historically accurate.”

Bucky grinned at you. “Sounds like a date, doll.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: Graphic Violence/Horror (dead bodies)
> 
> Series Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Depression, PTSD, References to Drug use, References to Rape/NonCon, Angst, Fluff

“You ready for this, doll?”

Bucky’s tone was teasing but his eyes were serious as he adjusted the straps on your tactical vest. Sharon had given you the green light to accompany them on the mission to investigate the abandoned warehouse near the Brooklyn Navy Yard, so here you were in the Ready Room, suiting up for your first official mission with the Avengers.

You had confidence in the new skills Sharon and Bucky had taught you—after all, you were being brought along for your Finding talent, not your fighting skills. You had spent several more hours at the range and gym with Bucky, although the sparring sessions in the gym had frequently disintegrated into semi-public make out sessions…much to the amusement of Sam and Wanda.

Things had been heating up between the two of you. You were so happy. You had never felt this way before about anyone, but at the same time it was almost a bit overwhelming—kind of like holding onto a speeding train by your fingertips. Last night you tossed and turned, your mind in turmoil before realizing the source of your anxiety was the fact that you hadn’t confided in Bucky yet.

So, you had made up your mind. Tonight was the night you would tell him everything and let the cards fall where they may. You were ready to take the next step with him, no more being afraid.

“Hey…you okay?” Bucky tilted your chin up until you were looking him in the eye. “You seem a little distracted. What’s going on?”

You pecked him on the lips. “Nothing, just a little nervous, I guess.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed, and he looked at you for half a beat as if he didn’t believe you. He straightened, adjusting his shoulder harness and adding a couple of grenades at his belt, almost as an afterthought. You smirked and shook your head.

“I’m glad you’re on our side, Buck.”

He looked at you seriously. “Everything’s gonna be fine, Y/N. Just follow my lead. Like I said, they’re gonna have to go through me, first.”

“That’s what I’m worried about, Buck. You’re the one that ended up bleeding last time, not me. Maybe this time I’ll save _you_ ,” you joked, trying to keep the mood light.

Bucky didn’t take the bait. Instead, he stepped closer to you, his gaze open and vulnerable. His lips curled into the faintest smile. “You already have saved me,” he whispered, running his thumb lightly over your bottom lip before he brought his mouth to yours.

_Oh, Bucky._

The kiss was simple and sweet, perfectly mirroring the sentiment it followed. You reached a hand up, fingers tracing the strong lines of his jaw. Bucky lightly wrapped his arms around your waist and held you as your knees went weak.

You had a crazy urge to melt into him and tell him how much you loved him. How perfect he was, how you were ready to give all of yourself to him—he already had your heart, why not the rest? It was a perfect moment. A perfect moment that was ruined when Sam walked by and smacked Bucky lightly in the back of the head.

“C’mon, old man, time to earn your pay.”

Sam sniggered as Bucky shot him a look along with his middle finger, and you struggled to straighten your vest and calm your racing heart.

*

Bucky watched Y/N as she stood chatting with Sharon. She looked good, suited up with the rest of the team, her SHIELD uniform offering protection and functionality and just happening to hug her lithe form in all the right places. That was his best girl standing there, and he couldn’t be prouder of her or love her more if he tried.

The drivers pulled the vehicles around and they climbed in, Sam and Sharon sitting in front while Bucky and Y/N took the back.

Y/N didn’t seem nervous at all, and he wondered what her previous comment was about. She was fearless. He knew that. It was something he loved about her, but lately he was getting the sense that something else was bothering her.

Bucky was a little worried about her; she seemed lost in thought a lot, almost to the point of distraction. Last night she had barely slept. She pretended to, but he could tell she had been awake most of the night. Anytime he asked about it she chocked it up to pre-mission jitters.

She was one of the strongest people he knew, but he also knew she tended to hold things in, trying to put on a brave face. It was almost as if she had something to prove, if not to others then to herself at least.

Absently, he rubbed her thigh, smiling when she lightly kissed the angle of his jaw in response.

“Knock it off back there, you two, don’t make me separate you.” Sharon’s tone was scolding, but Bucky could see her amused smirk in the rearview mirror. She publicly claimed credit for finally getting him and Y/N together with her ill-fated sparring session and approved whole-heartedly of the match.

From the front seat, Sam grunted and scowled as he typed furiously away on his phone.

“What’s up, Sam?”

Sam tossed his phone on the dash disgustedly. “Secretary Ross is breathing down my neck, wanting an update. We’re probably gonna have to have a big debrief with him after this mission, and you know how delightful those can be.”

“What’s his deal?” Y/N asked.

“He’s not exactly the biggest fan of the Avengers, and he’s especially not a fan of Zemo,” Sam explained. “He was fine when Zemo was still overseas, but now that he’s back in the States, Ross is starting to get nervous. And when he’s nervous, he micromanages.”

Bucky snorted. “Screw him. You’re Captain America, not him.”

“He’s got a lot of pull, Buck. He could make things difficult, especially for you—he’s not _your_ biggest fan, either.”

Bucky muttered under his breath and Y/N took his hand in hers, the touch immediately soothing him. The ride into the city was uneventful, and it was dark by the time they arrived at the warehouse.

The building was old and dilapidated. Like most of the surrounding structures it looked to have been built around the mid-1800’s. Several windows had been boarded up, although panes of glass still remained intact on the upper levels.

Sam pressed a hand to his goggles, scanning the area. “I’m only picking up six heat signatures, three in the southwest corner, and three on the north side. All on the ground floor.”

“Seems a little light,” Bucky commented.

“We’re not even sure what this place is. It could be just an offloading point for shipments into the city. Won’t know till we get in there.” He looked back at the team. “Sharon and I will take the north side, Bucky and Y/N take the south. The rest of you split between the two groups.”

Sam’s order was silently acknowledged and the group split. Bucky led his team around the side of the building, noting with pride how quietly Y/N moved, her weapon drawn and bladed away like she had been taught. Three SHIELD agents followed closely behind, the rear providing cover for the group.

Bucky tried the door handle and found it locked. Quickly peeking through a crack in the boards, he spotted the three men inside. They were well armed, but all three were sitting around a table playing cards, their focus on the game instead of the door. He indicated their locations as he attached explosives to the door.

A silent countdown, and the door blew inward. Bucky and another SHIELD Agent swept into the room, quickly dispatching the trio. Y/N pulled up next to him as the Agents continued ahead, checking the area for hostiles. She cocked her head, looking down at the bodies.

“They’re armed to the teeth, but they’re just sitting here playing cards. Seems a little relaxed.”

Bucky nodded. “Maybe Sam was right…maybe they’re waiting for a shipment. Doesn’t look like they’re guarding much of anything.”

Sam’s voice broke over the headset. “All clear north side.”

“All clear south,” Bucky responded as the SHIELD Agent reported the area clear.

“All right let’s split up and see what we can find. Y/N, do your thing.”

Y/N smirked. “Copy that.”

Bucky followed her quietly as she moved from room to room, pausing here and there, touching random bricks and boards.

“What are you looking for? Can I help?”

Y/N frowned. “I’m not really sure what to look for myself. I know it seems like I know what the hell I’m doing…” she paused, bending down to pick up a cog off the floor. She ran her hands over it a few times before tossing it back on the ground. “But I’m mostly working off of hunches here. It’s a very inexact process.”

They moved out into the main room. Minutes ticked by, and Bucky could sense the team becoming more and more frustrated. Sam pulled up next to Bucky, shaking his head.

“There’s nothing here, man. We’ve been through this place twice.”

“Why send six guys to guard nothing? You really think they were just sitting here waiting for a shipment?”

Sam looked around. “Seems like the most logical explanation.”

Bucky wasn’t convinced. “Where are the vehicles? How are they gonna transport it? Something’s off here…”

They watched as Y/N circled the room again. She stopped suddenly and straightened, spinning slowly.

“What is it Y/N, you got something?” Sam asked, walking quickly up to her.

She looked both alarmed and curious, but Bucky didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. She waved her hand in front of her, almost as if she were feeling for a draft.

“Do you feel that? It’s just like at the Hydra Bunker…it feels like…”

She drifted off and closed her eyes, walking forward slowly. Sam waved his hand around, a bemused look on his face.

“Don’t feel anything, do you?”

Bucky hushed him and pointed to Y/N. “Whatever it is, I don’t think we can sense it, but she can,” he said quietly.

He watched as she walked forward until her hands were pressed up against the brick wall. Her eyes were still closed, but her hands moved slowly over the bricks as if she were searching for something. Sam scowled.

“Y/N, there’s nothing there. It’s just a brick w—”

Sam cut off abruptly as the wall appeared to shimmer before dissolving. Where the solid brick wall once stood there was now an old metal door.

“What the--How did you do that?” Sam sputtered.

Y/N slowly turned and stepped away from the door. “I-I don’t know. Nothing like that’s ever happened before.” Bucky gently grasped her elbow as Sam inspected the door. She looked a little pale and unsettled.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, I just…it was a little intense.” She shook herself, blinking hard. “Well, I guess we found what they were hiding.”

The rest of the team crowded around the door as Sam opened it, finding stairs leading down into darkness. They descended and found themselves standing in a long tunnel, branching left and right at a slight downward grade.

“Think we also found where they’re transporting everything. This looks like it leads down to the subway level.” Sam straightened. “Okay, same groups as before. Watch your comms, we may lose them down here.”

Bucky clicked on his rifle-mounted light as Y/N pulled her flashlight out of her vest. She seemed to have regained her composure, and she nodded to him reassuringly, squeezing his shoulder. The three Agents trailed behind them, each member of the group on high alert as they moved down the tunnel.

Old masonry was shored up by rotting timbers, the tunnel only wide enough for them to pass single file. It looked like it was made hastily and was starting to deteriorate; several bricks and timbers had already fallen loose. They would have to be careful.

“We come across anyone, use your knife or your gun—absolutely no grenades down here,” Bucky whispered back to the group. “These tunnels aren’t in the best shape, and the risk of a cave-in is too high.”

“What were these tunnels used for?” Y/N asked quietly.

“Judging by the age, my guess would be old bootleggers tunnels, created as an access point between the docks and the old subway system. They used to run all kinds of stuff down here back during Prohibition. We’ll have to keep our eyes open for any alcoves where Hydra could’ve stashed whatever they’re moving down here.”

Bucky felt her nod. They rounded a corner, and there was another door. He gestured for the team to douse their lights and cracked the door, his enhanced vision adjusting quickly to the darkness. Seeing no one, he stepped through the doorway and straightened in surprise.

They were in a wide arching tunnel, approximately twenty feet high and across. Two distinct levels of masonry were visible, indicating the age of the tunnel. Bucky turned around.

“I know where we are…this is part of the old Atlantic Avenue Subway Tunnel. Goes right through the heart of Brooklyn. They used to give tours down here.”

“They don’t anymore?”

“No. Stopped after the Snap. Down here’s the perfect place to move around the city, completely unseen.”

Y/N bit her lip. “So, they could be anywhere.”

“Not anywhere,” Bucky said. He crouched down and pointed to the dirt, where a faint imprint of a bootheel could be seen. “Someone’s been through here recently, and they were dragging something heavy.”

Bucky had an idea what that something was. He doubted the rest of the group could smell it yet, but he faintly caught the sickly sweet smell of rotting meat.

The team followed as he led the way down the tunnel. When the tracks seemed to fade directly into the brick wall, he turned to Y/N.

“Do you think…”

She stepped forward slowly and jumped back as if burned. Bucky was at her side in a heartbeat, steadying her.

“It’s okay…it’s just a lot stronger than the last one,” she said, rolling her shoulders.

Bucky watched, his brow creased with worry as she walked forward again and laid her hands on the wall of the tunnel. It still unnerved him that he couldn’t feel anything. A slight shimmer, and the illusion faded away like a magician’s trick.

Another door that gave way to yet another bootlegger’s tunnel.

The stench was worse down here. Y/N’s jaw was set, and he could tell she noticed it too. Bucky knew that smell for what it was—decomp, and they were getting close to whatever it was. A small alcove led off to the right, and he shined his light inside.

Bucky took one glance at the horror illuminated in its beam and grabbed Y/N roughly by the shoulders, turning her away.

“Don’t look.”

There was a retching sound, followed by a splatter of liquid as one of the SHIELD agents was sick.

“Are they—”

“Yes, very,” Bucky said, grimacing. “Been that way awhile by the looks of them. Stay here.”

She nodded, carefully avoiding the alcove as she went to comfort the sick Agent. He looked young, quite literally green and about ready to pass out. His heart warmed seeing her kindness in the face of horror.

He turned back towards the alcove, crouching down to get a better look. At least a dozen bodies were thrown haphazardly in the alcove. He didn’t see any obvious cause of death, but at this advanced stage of decomposition, it was hard to tell. Bucky pressed his earpiece.

“Sam, we’ve got bodies down here. Civilians by the look of them, been dead a while.”

“Copy that, we just found a shit-ton of Hydra weaponry, too. Heavy-duty stuff, Chitauri technology. Send someone up top to get ahold of the NYPD, get them down here to ID the bodies.”

“How much farther do you want us to go? We’ve already passed into a secondary tunnel.”

“Let’s do fifteen minute comms checks, turn around when you lose comms.”

“Sounds good.”

Bucky stood, looking over to where the young SHIELD Agent was leaning against the wall, his head between his knees. Y/N crouched next to him, offering him sips from her water bottle.

“Hey—you okay to make it back up to the warehouse?” The Agent nodded weakly. “Good. I need you to get ahold of the NYPD so they can ID the bodies. Then call Wanda back at the Compound, and have her send some more guys down here with the Quinjet to retrieve the weapons Sam found. Okay?”

The Agent nodded again, and Bucky helped him stand. He left quickly, looking very happy to be on his way back topside. Bucky gripped Y/N’s arm, silently asking if she was okay, and she smiled grimly and squeezed his arm back.

“All right, let’s keep going.”

*

You followed close on Bucky’s heels, pointedly looking down at the dirt as you passed the alcove. Judging by the smell you could tell how bad it was, and you were all set with seeing that. You were grateful for how Bucky was treating you. He was protective, to be sure, but at the same time you didn’t feel coddled.

It was now just the four of you, moving cautiously as the tunnel continued downward. The air was staler here and much warmer, but thankfully the stench of the bodies was quickly left behind.

There was a rattling overhead, and the tunnel shook as dirt reigned down—you must be under the main line. It was a good thing you weren’t claustrophobic.

Up ahead, the tunnel split in two, and Bucky halted.

“All right, you two take that tunnel and we’ll take this one. I want ten minute comms checks, return to this branch if you lose comms. I don’t want anyone getting lost down here.”

The Agents nodded and the group split. You followed Bucky down the tunnel, your heart thrumming in your chest. The gothic architecture of the tunnels played with your mind, calling forth images of dark horrors lurking unseen. It was creepy down here, and the discovery of the bodies had definitely upped the danger level. You wondered who they were, and why they had been disposed of so indiscreetly.

Four comms checks had passed, and the tunnel had taken on a decidedly earthy smell. Suddenly, Bucky pushed you back against the wall, dousing his light and motioning for you to do the same. He crouched motionlessly next to you, one hand on your knee to keep you there. You couldn’t hear anything except the rush of blood in your ears.

A bead of sweat trickled down the small of your back. Still you waited, your eyes adjusting to the dim light. Bucky tensed, and you could just make out the sounds of booted feet walking towards you. Two figures rounded the bend and Bucky rushed forward, knife at the ready.

He grappled with the two men, silently taking down the first, then turning on the other. His back was to the tunnel, and you watched in horror as a third man rounded the corner, the distinct outline of a gun pointed at Bucky’s unprotected back.

Without thinking, you raised your weapon and fired. The man’s head snapped back, and Bucky turned in surprise as the man slumped bonelessly to the ground.

Bucky’s light flicked on, and you stared down at the man you had killed. He was wearing a bulky uniform, and with the mask over his face he looked barely human. Still, he _was_ another human being, and you had just killed him. 

So why didn’t it bother you?

“Y/N…are you all right?” Bucky was looking at you intently, his blue eyes wide with concern.

You weren’t sure if you were okay or not. Maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe it was the fear of losing Bucky, but taking a life didn’t upset you as much as you thought it should.

And that bothered you.

“He was going to kill you,” you said dazedly, purposely not answering his question. Your feelings, whatever they were, needed to be filed away and examined later—now was not the time. You allowed a cold, unfeeling mask to slip over your face. It felt strangely reminiscent of your days with Gabriel, and it made your stomach turn.

Bucky seemed to realize you were compartmentalizing, and he nodded in understanding. He must have accepted it, because he pressed his earpiece and called into the other team.

“We just met some resistance down here,” He nudged the Hydra Agent’s weapon with a toe. “They’ve got Chitauri Weaponry, so be careful. If they discharge one of those down here it could be dangerous.”

Bucky turned to you and wrapped his hand around yours. “We can turn back if you want, it’s your call.”

You shook your head. “Let’s keep going, I’m okay.”

A thousand unspoken words passed between you as he searched your face. He looked down at the Hydra Agent on the floor then back up at you, complex emotions flashing across his face.

“Thank you, Y/N. I’m sorry you had to do that.”

You shook your head. “It’s what you guys trained me for, right? I’ve got your back, Bucky.”

He huffed and kissed you chastely on the lips. “I know you do, doll.”

He turned and continued down the tunnel. The minutes passed by, both of you on high alert after your run-in with the patrol. After fifteen minutes Bucky checked his watch, and he looked at you. The other team had missed their check-in.

“All right, I think it’s time to turn around. If they lost comms, we probably will soo—”

Bucky was interrupted by a burst of static over the earpieces. The sound of gunfire echoed off the tunnel walls, the noise oddly distorted.

_“…taking heavy fire! We’re…to the main branch…egress route…”_

The Agent’s voice was garbled, and suddenly cut off by an electric whine. The tunnel shook, bricks and timbers falling.

“Y/N, run!” Bucky shouted, pulling you back up the tunnel.

Your flashlight swung in your hands, the light bouncing crazily off the falling debris as you ran as fast as you could back towards the split. You couldn’t hear anything over the rumble, but you were distantly aware of Bucky’s hand at your back.

A large timber fell and caught you across the shoulder. You stumbled and would have fallen, but Bucky hauled you to your feet, propelling you forward. Up ahead you could see the dim light of the split. Hope sprang in your chest, but it was quickly doused as the roof of the tunnel caved in.

Bucky yanked you back as a large boulder crashed to the floor where you had been standing moments before. He shouted something, but you couldn’t hear him over the roar.

Hands pushed you to the ground. You felt him fall on top of you, shielding you with his body as the tunnel continued to collapse. Dust swirled, choking you. You felt more than heard him grunt as bricks and earth rained down upon him, and the pressure on your back increased until you could barely draw a breath.

Just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, the ground inexplicably opened up beneath you, and you were falling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I first fell in love with the stories of all the abandoned subway tunnels beneath NYC a few years ago, when I read Preston and Child’s Relic and Reliquary, which took place in the tunnels. I am so excited to include them in this fic, I think it would be such a creepy and unique hideout for Hydra. Some of what I’ve added is fabricated, but here’s a couple links if you’d like to read more about the secret subway tunnels and platforms beneath NYC:
> 
> Atlantic Avenue Tunnel http://www.brooklynrail.net/proj_aatunnel.html  
> 10 Secret Subway Tunnels of NYC https://ny.curbed.com/maps/nyc-subway-secret-tunnels
> 
> Also, I created a new moodboard for this fic, so enjoy!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: Survival situation (injuries, blood), Claustrophobic Trigger (cave-in) 
> 
> Series Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Depression, PTSD, References to Drug use, References to Rape/NonCon, Angst, Fluff

Sam hung up the phone and fought back the growing sense of panic. It had been over twelve hours since they had lost comms with Bucky and Y/N, and the reports from the secondary team did little to calm his nerves.

Apparently Bucky’s team had ran into a Hydra patrol, probably on their way to meet with the Agents watching the warehouse. The Chitauri weaponry had triggered a cave-in, and Bucky and Y/N had been caught in it.

As much as he wanted to be down there digging through rubble with his bare hands, Sam knew he needed to be topside, overseeing the shitshow that was currently unfolding. The NYPD had finally showed up to collect the bodies, and it seemed like Wanda had sent the entire SHIELD contingent in the Quinjet as backup.

_That’s what I should’ve done in the first place. We never should have pushed that hard or that far._

And now Bucky and Y/N were paying the price for his eagerness.

Sam watched the NYPD load the bodies into the back of the coroner’s van, clenching his jaw in frustration. Frustration at himself, and frustration at the horrible feeling of helplessness. He was supposed to be the leader…make the right decisions.

Not get his own people hurt.

He sensed Sharon coming up behind him and he turned towards her, not bothering to hide the hopeful expression on his face. He had sent her down to the split in the tunnel where the cave-in occurred to see if they could pick up any sign of Bucky or Y/N. Her face was grim as she handed back his Falcon goggles.

“I’m sorry Sam,” she said. “Nothing on comms and I didn’t pick up any heat signatures. The tunnel’s too weak to excavate without risk of a further cave-in. It’s not all bad news though, if their bodies were trapped under the rubble we still would have gotten something.”

Sam swallowed. Their bodies. He would never forgive himself if anything happened to Bucky or Y/N. Sharon must have noted the look on his face, because she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Sam, this doesn’t mean anything. If anyone can make it out of there it’s Bucky—the man’s damn near invincible.”

“What about an alternate route? Have we found any maps of the old subway system?”

“A few, but if they’re down into the sub-levels, and those aren’t mapped.”

Sam absorbed this information. Sending more people down there now would be reckless. He could just end up losing more people, and there was still the Hydra element to deal with. They’d clearly stumbled onto something big here.

So what should he do?

He was used to working solo or with a partner—not being responsible for so many lives…so many essential decisions. Sam had been honored when Steve had given him the shield, and he had adopted the mantle of Captain America seriously and proudly. Now, though, he was beginning to doubt himself.

“I should’ve waited for backup. I should’ve—”

Sharon cut him off, her face stern. “Hey—you made a call as our leader, and this isn’t the time to second-guess a decision that’s already played out. Whether it was the right or wrong call doesn’t matter right now. You deal with this situation first, get your people back, and then learn from your mistakes later. We follow you because you _are_ a good leader—not because you carry a shield with a star on it.”

Sam looked down at her, his lips twitched into an approximation of a smile. Sharon was right. He had to take control of this situation and deal with his guilt and regret later. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Maybe this was why Steve had been so emotionally constipated.

“Thanks, Sharon.”

“Anytime, Cap.”

Sam pressed his earpiece, calling out to his team. “All right listen up. Agent Carter will liaise with the NYPD and the transit authority. I want SHIELD Agents paring up with transit cops to sweep possible access points around the cave-in site—keep calling out on comms and use thermal imaging, see if we can locate our missing people. Don’t go wandering off into any inactive lines, I don’t want to lose anyone else down there.”

Sam felt a sense of calm wash over him as he gave further orders to his team, sending the Chitauri weapons back in the Quinjet to Banner and establishing a security zone around the warehouse. He established a command center near the tunnel access, unfolding Sharon’s subway maps and directing teams below, praying that his friends were still alive.

*

You slowly opened your eyes and blinked at the total darkness. There was a high-pitched ringing in your ears, but at least everything had stopped moving. Deaf and blind, you coughed and spat out a thick, gritty sludge. Everything tasted like dirt. You could feel a heavy, warm weight on your back, and you squirmed out from under it, struggling to draw a breath.

That was a mistake.

As soon as you shifted your left arm a white-hot pain shot throughout your shoulder, radiating down to your fingertips. You bit back a scream and stayed where you were, drawing great sobbing breaths through clenched teeth. Something warm and sticky dripped onto the side of your face and you started to panic, not being able to even see your hand in front of your face.

Slowly you wriggled your hand up, bracing your shoulder as you tried to pull yourself free. Pain flared again but you pushed through it. You rolled onto your back as white spots danced in front of your eyes, and you lay back, waiting for the pain to ebb.

Your thoughts were disjointed, your thinking fuzzy. Squeezing your eyes shut you tried to get ahold of the situation. Somehow you had lost your flashlight. Bucky still had his though, it was still in his tactical vest—wait.

Bucky—where’s Bucky?

Panic flashed razor sharp, and you groped around blindly with your good arm, praying he was alright.

“B-Bucky?” you coughed, your voice hoarse from the dust in the air.

Your hand brushed against something warm and soft, and you realized it was the sleeve of his jacket. He was lying on his side, still half-buried; he must have landed right on top of you. You felt along his arm until you reached his vest, pulling open the pocket where you knew his flashlight was. It was a struggle with only one useful arm, but you were able to gently roll him over as you flicked the flashlight on.

It took your eyes a second to adjust, and your stomach clenched when you saw him. The entire right side of his face was covered in blood; still more was oozing from the back of his head. You desperately felt for a pulse at his throat, releasing a relieved breath when you felt the strong, steady rhythm beneath your fingers.

You swiftly checked him for injuries. Other than his head he seemed okay, although there was some swelling in his left knee you didn’t like. This didn’t ease your worry, however; he had shielded you with his body, taking the brunt force of the cave-in, and you couldn’t be sure he didn’t have any internal injuries. Stuffing your fears down as deep as they would go you unearthed yourself from the rubble and grasped Bucky under the arms awkwardly, pulling his body clear.

A wave of pain and nausea hit you and you feel back next to him, panting. Minutes passed as the pain in your arm finally receded to something bearable. Bucky still hadn’t moved, but you could still feel the steady rise and fall of his chest. Gently, you shook him.

“Bucky. Bucky, please…wake up.”

You were starting to get scared and your voice hitched with worry. Angrily, you wiped at the wetness your face. Crying wasn’t going to help him--you needed to figure this out. 

It was very warm down here, and a bead of sweat trickled down your back. You shined the flashlight around. It looked like you had fallen through into another tunnel, if you even wanted to call it that. The walls were rough, and no brickwork or shoring could be seen. Behind you the tunnel was blocked, but the other direction stretched out into inky darkness. It seemed like everything was stable for now.

You turned your attention back to Bucky. He had a large cut on the back of his head, but the bleeding there seemed to have stopped. His forehead was worse. There was a large gash from his hairline to his temple, and you used your water bottle to rinse the dirt from the wound, looking around for something to bind it with.

After what seemed like an eternity you were able to wriggle out of your uniform top, using your knife to rip long strips from the fabric. You found out quickly that your forearm must be broken, nearly passing out from the pain as you attempted to grasp the fabric. You were forced to use your teeth to hold the shirt steady, breathing heavily and trying not to throw up.

Neither of you carried much in the way of medical supplies, so you cleaned the blood from his face as best you could and bound his wound. You checked his pulse again, noting it unchanged from before. Panic and concern for Bucky welled inside you, and you fought it down along with the bile that rose in your throat.

_Shit, this isn’t good. Lost underground with no comms and an unconscious super soldier. What do I do now?_

There wasn’t much you could do, you realized. You couldn’t carry Bucky, even if you had two good arms—he was too heavy. All you could do was wait until he came round. You settled back in the dirt next to him, gripping his hand tightly as if that would help. It was a small comfort, feeling him next to you; you still felt nauseous, but if you closed your eyes the pain lessened a bit.

You weren’t sure how long you lay there, drifting in and out. A soft groan woke you, and your vision doubled as you sat up too quickly. Bucky was stirring next to you.

“Bucky?”

Bucky’s eyes fluttered open and he gasped, sitting up and immediately going into fight-or-flight mode. His eyes skittered wildly before settling on you.

“Y-Y/N?”

“It’s okay Bucky. I’m right here with you, you’re safe.”

Bucky listened to your words and relaxed minutely, shaking his head as if to clear it. He saw your worried posture and reached a hand up to tentatively probe the bandage on his head.

“Wha—what happened?”

You shifted uncomfortably. “The other team ran into a Hydra patrol, I think their guns triggered another cave-in. You…you shielded me from the worst of it, and you were out for a while. I think we fell down to another level, but we’re safe for now.”

Bucky reached up to touch the bandage on his forehead again, grimacing. It was then that he saw the awkward way you were cradling your arm, and his eyes went wide with concern.

“You’re hurt,” he said, shifting over so he could see you better. You saw his jaw tighten in pain, and you noticed he wasn’t moving his left leg at all.

“Bucky, your leg—”

He didn’t listen. “Don’t worry about me, Y/N, I’m fine. Let me see your arm.”

His touch was feather light but you still had to clench your teeth to keep from crying out as he probed your arm, assessing the injury.

“Well, your forearm’s definitely broken…it’s not too bad, just a simple fracture. Your shoulder’s dislocated, though. Do you hurt anywhere else?”

“N-no, just my arm.”

His eyes scanned your body as if to confirm this, and he carefully leaned you back against the tunnel wall. “Okay. I’m gonna set your arm and stabilize it, and then get your shoulder back into place. I’m sorry sweetheart, it’s gonna hurt a bit.”

You nodded closed your eyes and braced yourself, but you couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped your lips as he set your arm. Bucky’s face fell, and he apologized profusely as he braced and wrapped the break. He gripped your arm tightly and rotated it, and you gasped in relief as your shoulder slid back into place with an audible pop.

Using the remains of your shirt he made a makeshift sling and bound your arm securely against your chest. You winced as he tightened it against your still-sore ribs. His eyes were apologetic; he hated causing you more pain.

Bucky saw you were trembling, and he wrapped an arm around you, brushing the hair back from your sweat-soaked forehead.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, kissing your temple. “You’re gonna be okay, just rest here a minute.”

It felt so good to be comforted by him, and you could’ve stayed there for hours. Still, you hated being this weak in front of him, so you pushed upright and gave him a reassuring smile.

“It’s okay Bucky, I know you had to. Really, it feels a lot better already. I’ll be fine.” You took a steadying breath and stood up as if to prove your point.

Bucky looked at you for a long moment before his lips twitched in amusement. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

He started to stand as well. The color left his face when he put weight on his left leg, however, and he sat down heavily. He shrugged out of his jacket and you gasped as his shirt rode up and you saw the bruises on his back.

“Bucky, are you okay?”

Bucky grunted as he cut the jacket into strips. “Don’t worry about it, doll, I’ll be f—”

“Say you’ll be fine again and I’ll smack you…well, I would if you didn’t already have a head injury.”

“I’ll live,” Bucky smirked.

You watched him bind his knee, visibly paling. He could see your concern and worry for him despite your attempt to mask it with sarcasm. He looked you up and down and shook his head.

“We’re quite the pair, aren’t we?” he said, grinning up at you in admiration.

You scoffed and reached a hand down to help him up, your eyes softening as you watched him test the weight on his leg. Bucky seemed pleased with the results, because he took the flashlight from you and started to move down the tunnel.

“All right, it looks like we fell down to the sub-levels. We keep following this and we should come across an access to the lower subway, and from there we should be able to follow it up and out.”

“Sub-levels?”

“The levels below the lower lines were used for maintenance, as air shafts, and access during construction. They aren’t meant for occupancy, so we’ll have to hope we don’t run across another cave-in or flooded section.” He saw your confusion, so he elaborated. “Drainage during heavy rains—gravity takes effect, and everything drains down here to the lowest point.”

You shivered, sincerely hoping that wasn’t going to be the case. “What about Hydra?”

“We’ll stay on alert, but I doubt they’re this far down—too dangerous. Which is why we need to get out of here as quickly as possible.”

You both walked on. The pain in your arm had receded to a dull throb, and you looked out of the corner of your eye to see how Bucky was doing. He was pale and sweating, and limping heavily. Bucky’s leg was hurting him far more than he let on. You didn’t say anything, though; the last thing he needed was you mother-henning him right now.

Despite his discomfort he radiated confidence, his eyes were sharp and calculating as he led you along the tunnel. You felt very glad he was there with you--if anyone could lead you out of a survival situation, it was Bucky. If it wasn’t for him, you’d be a lot more scared than you were, and you tried to put on your bravest face for him. You felt a surge of love for Bucky, this man who would do anything to protect you, even if it meant placing himself in harm.

You knew beyond a shadow of a doubt you would do the same for him.

Overcome with emotion, you reached out and took his hand. Bucky looked down at you worriedly, but his gaze softened and he halted. He bent down and cupped your jaw, kissing you tenderly and pressing his forehead to yours as he looked you right in the eye.

“We’re gonna be okay, Y/N. I promise.”

You kissed him back, being careful not to touch his injuries. “I know.”

Bucky huffed and his lips twitched in a smile, seeing the utter faith and trust you had in him. You both turned and kept walking, your hands still locked together.

The minutes ran together, and you realized you had no idea how long you had been down in the tunnels. Entering the warehouse seemed like it had happened days ago. You wondered what had happened to the rest of the team, and you hoped everyone was okay. Sam had to be frantic with worry, wondering what had happened to you both.

Anxiety started to creep in, and you pushed it back down, trying to distract yourself.

“So, how do you know so much about the subway system?”

“Well…civil engineering is another interest of mine,” Bucky admitted. “Steve and I used to play down in the abandoned tunnels in the winter. It was warm down there, and the perfect place to have all kinds of boyish adventures. Later on, I did a lot of reading up on the history and construction of the tunnels—the engineering alone was fascinating.

“I was actually going to go college after the war, but…things got in the way.” He chuckled darkly at his own joke.

You looked at him. “You can still go back, you know. It’s not too late.”

Bucky looked at you in surprise and paused, his brow furrowing. “Yeah…I guess I could. It’s just been…my life’s been such a mess, I hadn’t though of that before now. I never really thought about having choices or moving on with my life.”

You both walked in silence for a bit, before he spoke up again. “What about you? You said you never had the chance before, but you do now.”

“I guess I never really thought about it either. I’ve been trying to just get by or clean up the mess I’ve made of my life, I just never thought of having options.”

Bucky looked like he was going to say something, but he changed his mind. He continued on in silence for a bit before he spoke again, smirking.

“Although, now I’d have a real dilemma—astronomy or civil engineering?”

You laughed, looking up at him with affection. “You’re like, a super-nerd, you know that?”

“Takes one to know one, doll,” he said, winking at you.

“Dork.”

If anyone had been listening to your conversation, they would have thought you were kicked back on a couch, cuddling together instead of wandering injured and lost through an underground labyrinth deep beneath the city. The playful banter ended however, as you rounded the corner.

Here the tunnel dipped down sharply, submerging completely. The smile was wiped from your face as you looked at the darkly menacing water. Bucky cursed.

Hesitating a moment, he handed you the flashlight and started to wade into the water. He stumbled over a submerged rock, and his face paled as he clutched his knee.

“Wh-what are you doing?” you asked.

“I’m gonna see how far it goes.”

“Bucky, wait. Don’t go, what if it’s too far and you can’t get back?”

“Y/N, I can’t—we don’t have a lot of options here.” He started to move into deeper water.

“Just wait, will you? I can project through the tunnel. We can see how far it is without putting you in danger.”

He heard your pleading tone, and he stopped. “Okay, yeah. I didn’t think of that. You’ll be okay?”

“My body will be high and dry, right here with you.”

Bucky held your hand as you laid down in the dirt, being careful not to jostle your injured arm.

“Be right back,” you said with more bravado than you felt.

You breathed deeply, clearing your mind, and the last thing you saw before you left was Bucky’s worried face looking down at you.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: Survival situation (injuries, blood), Claustrophobic Trigger (cave-in), Drowning trigger, Fluff.
> 
> Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Depression, PTSD, References to Drug use, References to Rape/NonCon, Angst, Fluff

Bucky watched as Y/N left, silence descending upon the tunnel once again.

He closed his eyes, and allowed the worry and fear he’d been repressing to come forward. This was bad. This was really bad.

He had been putting on a brave face for her, radiating a confidence he didn’t really feel. She wasn’t stupid; he knew she understood the gravity of the situation, but she needed him to be strong for her right now. Y/N stood a better chance with him more than anyone—Bucky would get her out or die trying.

But the fact was, he was a super soldier and she was not, and the day was starting to take a toll on her.

Bucky glanced at his watch, then down at her still form. It had been almost twenty-four hours since they’d entered the warehouse, and a lot had happened since then.

The discovery of the bodies, and the shock of having to make her first kill. He saw how unsettled she had been after that, even though she tried to hide it. Add to that the mental strain of being trapped and lost underground…and he was sure the repeated use of her powers was wearing her down as well.

She was filthy—hell, they both were—but underneath the grime she was deathly pale. Bucky’s brow furrowed as he smoothed her hair back, trying to wipe some of the dirt and perspiration from her face.

He gently pressed his fingers to her left side—he had seen how she was favoring it, and sure enough, the ribs she had bruised a few days ago were now broken. Add to that the broken arm and dislocated shoulder, and he knew she had to be in an incredible amount of pain.

Bucky was worried about her going into shock, and now dehydration was a concern as well. They’d have to start rationing the water. After feeling how cold that water was, hypothermia also a possibility. Even if the submerged section weren’t that far, she would be drenched when they emerged on the other side—if they could even make it that far.

It was a bad situation, one that seemed to get worse with each passing moment.

Bucky laid back next to Y/N and cursed their bad luck and his own foolishness. They never should have gone as far as they did without backup. They wouldn’t even be in this mess if he would’ve spoken up.

_No use thinking like that, Barnes. You’re here and so is she, and it’s up to you to get her out. She trusts you. She’s counting on you, you can’t let her down._

Bucky closed his eyes, trying to conserve his strength and lessen the pounding in his head. He definitely had a concussion, and it was a good thing his stomach was empty because he was pretty sure he would have thrown up by now.

He felt like he had been pummeled by the Hulk. His back was one solid bruise, and each breath felt like fire. His leg was broken—he had known that before he even stood up, but as long as he kept the binding tight it was manageable. The serum allowed him to withstand a lot, and it wasn’t the first time he’d had to walk off a broken leg.

And he would—for her.

Y/N stirred next to him, and she sat up, wincing. Bucky placed a hand behind her back to steady her, and she gave him a tired smile as they both leaned back against the tunnel wall.

“How far is it?” he asked, dreading the answer.

“Um…far. It’s hard to gauge distances when I’m traveling but I’d say at least three hundred yards. It actually branches twice, and I followed them all to find the shortest route—that’s what took so long. We’ll want to take a left, then a right.”

She looked up at him, her gaze hopeful. “It comes up into a larger tunnel though, and it looks like there’s a steel door. Locked of course, but we can get out of the sub-levels that way.”

“Do you think you can hold your breath that long?”

“I’ll have to, won’t I?”

Bucky was silent for a moment as the gravity of the situation set in. He could hold his breath for well over eight minutes, but he knew the average person could only hold their breath for a minute or two tops—less if they were swimming. And she was hurt, that would factor in as well. He glanced at their surroundings and then back at the darkly menacing water, but he knew there was no other way.

They were simply out of options.

Bucky kept his face carefully schooled so as not to betray his own fear. It was important that she keep calm if they were going to get through this.

“Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. I can swim faster than you, even with one arm, so I’m gonna hold onto you. I want you to just focus on staying as calm and as still as possible so you don’t use up your air more quickly. Understand?”

Y/N nodded, and together they waded into the deep water. She gasped when she felt how cold it was, a startling contrast to the tepid air of the tunnel. Bucky turned her around so her back was against his chest, and he wrapped his flesh arm around her. He felt her relax against him, trusting him completely.

Not needing the flashlight due to his enhanced night vision, he clicked it off and put it in the pocket of his vest. He felt her grip his arm with her one good hand, and he spoke in her ear.

“Okay, we’re going to take three deep breaths together, and then we’re going under. Ready?”

Bucky knew she had to be scared—he could see the fear in her eyes. But when she answered him, her voice was strong and sure, and he felt a surge of admiration for her.

“Ready.”

Bucky guided them through three breaths, instructing her to breathe as deeply as possible—something he knew would be difficult with broken ribs. Y/N coughed on the first one, but the second two were nice and deep. On three, she clamped a hand over her mouth and nose, and they slipped beneath the surface.

_Steady. Find your pace. She’ll feel it if you start to panic._

Bucky found that it was easier to pull him self along the top of the tunnel with his vibranium arm, Y/N clamped securely against him with his right. He began to pick up speed, falling into a rhythm that both conserved energy and decreased drag. Y/N was motionless in his arms, and they came to the first split.

_Left._

One minute had gone by. Bucky had no idea how far they had gone or how much was left, but Y/N was starting to fidget. Her grip tightened, and he knew she was struggling. Bucky shoved his own rising panic back down, and tried to move faster.

One minute thirty seconds. He could feel her begin to shake, and her hand left his arm to clamp over her mouth again. She was running out of time.

_Where is the goddamn second split?!_

They were approaching two minutes, and he saw it up ahead. Her chest was spasming now as she fought the urge to breathe. The split was close, but Y/N wasn’t going to make it that far.

He paused and pulled her up until they were face-to-face. Bucky cupped her jaw with his hands and sealed his mouth against hers, praying that she would understand what he was trying to do. He exhaled, pushing the last of his air into her.

Giving her the last of his breath.

A few bubbles slipped out and her eyes went wide, staring at nothing, but he saw her relax slightly. He quickly spun her around and resumed his quickened pace, pulling them past the second split.

He prayed it wouldn’t be too much farther. That little bit of air wasn’t going to last her long, and now his own lungs were starting to burn as he ran on empty. Up ahead, he could make out a slight change in the darkness, ripples on the surface. His heart sank when he saw how far it was, and he felt her start to convulse again.

Three and a half minutes, and Y/N began to drown. Her body jerked in his arms as she lost the battle, and he nearly gulped in water himself in panic.

_No! No, no, please…just a little bit further…stay with me sweetheart, stay with me…_

He felt her body go slack in his arms, and moments later their heads broke the surface. Bucky gulped in air, coughing as he swam over to the edge and trying to keep her head above the surface. Y/N’s head rolled back limply against his shoulder, her eyes closed.

Bucky clawed at the floor of the tunnel and pulled her limp body up out of the water, his mind whirling in panic.

Then she was coughing, retching, drawing in great gasps of air as she trembled. He quickly rolled her onto her side, his eyes screwing shut in relief.

“Shh…it’s okay, I’m right here. I’ve got you,” he murmured. “Just breathe…it’s over now.”

Bucky held her as she brought up the rest of the water and tried not to think about how close he had come to losing her.

Gradually her coughing slowed and she lay there, breathing shallowly and shaking. He pulled her into a seated position and leaned her back against the wall. Her eyes fluttered open, and she smiled tiredly up at him.

“Jesus, Buck, warn a girl next time you want to do something heroic.”

Bucky gave a snort of laughter at her sass, and he lightly kissed her temple as he checked her arm. The bindings were nice and tight, and she still had feeling in her fingers, which was good. She was still trembling though, and her skin had an ashy look that he didn’t like. He subtly checked the pulse at her wrist; it was fast and a little erratic, but it was evening out slowly.

As he sat back next to her, he spotted the door she had mentioned. There would be time to investigate it further, but Y/N had to recover some of her strength if they were going to continue. He reached an arm around her and pulled her close, and she snuggled into his side.

“Here…you need to eat,” he said, pulling a protein bar from his pocket and breaking it in half. He wanted to give it all to her, but he required more calories than she did just to keep up with his metabolism. He also pulled out the bottle of water, and they each took a couple sips.

“We’ll rest here for a bit, and then push on,” he said, and for once she didn’t fight him on it. Bucky didn’t know if he should be relieved or worried. She looked so tired, and her silence was starting to worry him.

Gently, he tilted her face up towards him. “Y/N? I know you’re in a lot of pain right now and you’re tired. We’re going to get through this, but you’ve got to tell me if something doesn’t feel right or you need a break. You’ve got to talk to me.”

She nodded, and when she spoke her voice was hoarse. “I’m sorry, it’s just…I think things are starting to catch up with me.” She tenderly cupped his cheek, her eyes flicking up to the bloodied makeshift bandage on his head. “Thank you, Bucky, for…just…that last part was…it was…”

“Awful,” he finished, and she laughed dryly.

“It’s definitely been my least favorite part of this day so far.”

Bucky joined in her laughter, amazed that she could still find humor despite the direness of their situation. God, he loved her so much.

She laid her head on his chest as he pulled her close. “I’m so proud of you Y/N, this is…not how I expected your first mission to go.”

“God, I hope not…I may have to reconsider things if this is a typical day at the office for you.”

Bucky heard the tiredness in her voice. “Just rest now for a bit, it’s okay if you fall asleep. I’ll wake you.”

They lapsed into silence as Bucky lightly rubbed his hands up and down her back. He had thought she had fallen asleep, when her soft voice roused him.

“Bucky?”

“Hmmm?”

She was silent for a long time. Then her arm tightened around his waist, and she spoke so quietly he almost didn’t hear it.

“I love you.”

Bucky went rigid, his heart suddenly hammering in his chest. Y/N must have heard it, because she pulled away slightly.

“I’m sorry, I know this is a terrible time, and I-I know I’ve been distant lately, and we haven’t been together or known each other that long. And there is definitely some things we need to talk about…about my past, but…but they seem kind of trivial right now. I’ve felt this way about you for a while, and it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way, I just want you to—”

Bucky exhaled sharply and pulled her into a kiss, desperate for the feel of her lips against his but trying to be mindful of both their injuries. Y/N whimpered and matched his intensity and they both fell away, panting. Tenderly he brushed his fingers over her cheek, smiling at the grime that coated her beautiful face.

“I love you Y/N. I think I’ve loved you since that first time you Found for me, the first time you showed me how much you cared. The first time you said you trusted me. I’ve loved you every moment since then, I was just too afraid to say it. I just…I didn’t want to push too hard.”

She smiled up at him, and he could see tears well in her eyes.

“I think you’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever met, Bucky Barnes. Beautiful,” she said, placing her hand over his heart, “inside and out.”

Now it was his turn to feel his eyes burn. Suddenly he laughed.

“God, how cliché are we, confessing our undying love in the middle of a survival scenario.”

“I don’t care.”

“Me neither.” Bucky beamed. “Come here.”

He lifted his arm, and she snuggled in close as he laid them both back against the tunnel floor. His own eyes were getting heavy and he felt her start to nod off. He kissed the top of her head and set an alarm on his watch before he clicked off the flashlight again.

***

Your eyes felt gummy as you struggled to open them, and at first you saw nothing. A brief flare of panic, then you realized Bucky had turned of the flashlight, probably to conserve the battery. You could feel him next to you, one arm wrapped protectively around your middle as his chest rose and fell with even breathing.

You laid your head on his chest, snuggling into his side as much as your injured arm would allow. His shirt and vest were still soaked and covered in mud, but his skin was warm and you could hear his heartbeat beneath your ear. You nuzzled into his chest, his heart’s steady rhythm comforting you.

The last part with the water had been the most terrifying thing you had ever done. You would have died if it weren’t for Bucky. The events of the past few hours played over in your head, and you clutched him a little tighter. He was your rock, your protector and your safe haven, and now…now you knew he loved you as much as you loved him.

The alarm on his watch went off, and Bucky began to stir, stroking your hair and kissing your forehead.

“You awake, doll?”

You hummed, and he clicked on the flashlight. Blue eyes found yours, and his brow furrowed with concern. His hand passed over your forehead as if to check for a fever, and you felt him feel the pulse at your wrist again.

“How are your feeling?”

You weren’t going to lie anymore. “Crappy. Arm’s hurting pretty bad again.”

Bucky nodded. “Adrenaline’s worn off. We’ll take it nice and slow, just make sure you—”

“I know, tell you if I need to rest,” you finished. “I will, I promise. How are _you_ feeling?”

He looked terrible. Mud and blood, all over his face and chest, and beneath that he was pale. Really pale. You wondered again about his leg, and whether or not he was trying to walk on a broken leg. Could a super soldier even do that?

“Like shit, but a little less shitty that I felt a couple hours ago…you think you’re ready to move on?”

“Yeah…how long have we been down here, anyway?”

Bucky checked his watch. “About twenty-seven hours. We need to start conserving water. It’s good that we found a way up, but we have no idea how much longer we’ll be down here.” He paused for a moment.

“What is it?”

“Do you think…do you think you can use your Finding to map us a route out of here? I mean, I’m not sure how it works or anything…I know how much it wears on you…”

You hastily shook your head. “No, it’s okay, I’ve thought about it too. To map out an area this large though, to find a route, would take a different technique.”

_Yeah, and that technique involved drugs. Drugs that you no longer have access to, and that you vowed you would never take again, even if you could._

“I um, I could do it…I _used_ to do it, but I…I don’t have what I need, um…I can’t…”

Bucky seemed to sense your discomfort. He shook his head and placed his hands on your shoulders. “It’s okay, you don’t have to explain. It was just a question.”

“I can scout ahead when we come to splits—”

“No, you need to save your strength. We’ll get out of here, and we’re going to do it the old fashioned way.”

You were silent. You felt so bad, he didn’t know anything about that part of your life, he probably didn’t understand why you couldn’t.

“Hey,” he said, tilting your chin up. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Bucky. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t.”

Bucky kissed you and smiled reassuringly before he stood and helped you to your feet. He seemed stiffer now, and you could tell his leg was hurting him more.

“Bucky, you can lean on me if you need to.”

He smiled thinly—he could see your worry. “I’m good for now. I’ll let you know if it gets too bad.”

A swipe of his metal arm and the lock on the steel door was broken. Stairs led up, and although it was slow going with Bucky’s leg, you somehow made it to the top. The tunnel here was taller, made of brick and it was actually dimly lit by sporadic lights.

Bucky pointed out the old rails as you walked over them.

“Stay away from that third rail, if there’s power to the lights then we have to assume it’s live too. I don’t want to find out the hard way.”

The minutes turned into hours as you walked on, one foot in front of the other like tin soldiers. Or maybe the walking dead, given both your appearances. You argued with Bucky and won, and at every split you Found the route, gradually bringing you higher.

You didn’t say much. The Finding was wearing you down, but you didn’t have the heart to tell him. The casual banter of a few hours ago was completely gone, your strength sapped. Bucky hadn’t seemed to be affected as much—while he kept on at his same steady pace, you felt like you were fading by the second. He kept looking at you worriedly, and you tried to keep a brave face for him, but you were struggling.

You turned the corner onto yet another abandoned platform and you ground to a halt, leaning against the grungy tile. Your heart was pounding and your vision swam, a cold sweat breaking out over your forehead.

You felt like you were about to pass out.

“B-Bucky…Bucky, I need to s-stop.”

Bucky caught you as your legs gave out, and he guided you to the floor. Your arm and your ribs hurt so badly, you felt like you couldn’t draw a breath.

“Y/N? What’s wrong. Talk to me.”

Fingers brushed across your forehead and probed under your jaw, and Bucky’s lips thinned.

“You’re going into shock.” His voice was strained as he lowered you onto your side. “Stay with me Y/N, just keep your eyes open.”

Dimly, you saw him pull a small round tube out of his pocket and stare at it. He blinked hard, seeming to decide something for a moment, before he jabbed it into your thigh in one swift movement.

You gasped at the brief sting, and then relaxed as you felt a delicious wave of soothing warmth wash over you, carrying away your pain. It was accompanied by a slight undercurrent of nausea, but at that point you didn’t care.

“Shh…you’re okay. Just relax.”

Bucky held you while the drug took effect, and gradually you started to feel better. The pain was almost gone, and you felt more alert.

“What was that?” you asked.

Bucky sighed. “It’s an auto-injector, a painkiller and stimulant. I’m not sure how long it’s going to last, I only have one human dose and one that’s dosed for me. I was saving it until we needed it. You needed it.”

“Thank you.”

Bucky gave you a sad and worried smile, and squeezed your hand. Feeling a hundred times better, you sat up, looking around. This platform looked more modern than the rest.

“Where are we? This doesn’t look like the others.”

Bucky glanced up, taking in the platform you were laying on. His brow furrowed.

“Wait. I know where we are. This is…this is the Worth Street Station, I used to ride the subway here with Steve when we had the money. It was closed in 1962…we’re under Manhattan right now.”

“Can…can you remember the way out?”

“I think I can, hopefully it’s not blocked.”

He stood on shaky legs and helped you to your feet. The injection had definitely helped, and you wondered just how long it was going to last. Long enough, you hoped.

“We need to be careful now, Hydra could be anywhere. We’re about on the same level we met the other patrol at. No talking from here on out.”

You nodded, and followed him as he led the way across the platform to a locked gate. Another swipe of his metal arm, and you were both squeezing through. Hope blossomed in your chest as you continued along another tunnel, Bucky taking the lead.

He remembered the way.

Suddenly, he pushed you into an alcove, motioning you to be silent. Minutes passed, and sure enough you heard the heavy tromp of boots. Hydra soldiers.

Bucky waited for them to pass, and then you both followed at a distance. The guards turned, and Bucky led you past them down the tunnel. As you passed the branch the guards went down, you slowed. You could feel a strange energy, a pulsing barrier that was close. It felt like whatever you had passed through at the Hydra Bunker.

“Bucky, stop,” you hissed.

He whirled, and his eyes narrowed when he saw the look on your face. You gestured towards the branch.

“There’s something there, I can feel it,” you whispered.

He stared at you for a moment before nodding. You knew he wasn’t happy about stopping, but he was just as curious as you were. Together, you crept along the tunnel branch, until it opened up into a large atrium. One look inside, and you both pressed back against the wall.

Hydra solders. Dozens of them. And three men—one in a long, furred trench coat, and two others wearing hooded robes.

“Zemo,” Bucky murmured, staring blankly ahead.

Wordlessly, you glanced at each other in shock.

You had found the Hydra Lair. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Above are photos of the Worth Street Station where the Hydra Lair is located, I’ve changed some of the detail of course, but it gives a pretty cool feel to the location. (Images found on Google)


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: Survival situation (injuries, blood), Anxiety, Violence.
> 
> Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Depression, PTSD, References to Drug use, References to Rape/NonCon, Angst, Fluff

The atrium at the far end of Worth Street Station was not large, but every available nook and cranny had been jammed full of equipment. Guns, computers, machinery, and other devices you couldn’t even begin to guess a use for filled the space. In the aisles, dozens of Hydra soldiers and technicians worked, everyone moving. It reminded you unpleasantly of a bee hive.

And there, in the center, were the three men. The one in the center that Bucky identified as Zemo was the shortest, and he wore a long fur-necked coat and sported a close-cropped beard. The other two wore golden robes that fell to their knees, but their faces were obscured by the hoods pulled low over their faces. You weren’t sure why, but you felt a tingle of recognition, some instinctual warning deep within you.

These men were dangerous, yet something drew you to them.

Bucky’s hand tightening around yours, grounding you. “Y/N, we’ve got to go. That injection’s not going to last forever, and we’re not equipped—”

Bucky’s whisper was cut off as the heavy footsteps of a patrol could be heard. They were coming down the tunnel, straight for you.

You were trapped. There was no concealment here, nowhere to run. Your stomach clenched as you realized you were in this position because _you_ had been curious—Bucky hadn’t wanted to stop, but you had felt something. Bucky’s jaw clenched and he drew his gun, stepping in front of you to protect you.

“Y/N, listen to me. I’m going to draw their fire, and I want you to run as fast as you can to the end of the tunnel. Don’t stop, don’t look back. I want you to follow the tunnel out and call for Sam on your commlink.”

“Bucky—”

“I’ll be right behind you, I promise.”

The tromp of bootsteps grew closer—this was suicide. Bucky was about to sacrifice himself for you, and it was all your fault. Your desperation and anger grew, and you began to feel something bloom within you. It was a glowing heat, a tingling sensation, something you had felt off and on your whole life. Something you had been trying to _suppress_ your whole life. Now, with Bucky’s life on the line, you finally embraced it fully.

As the patrol rounded the corner, you pushed him aside, raising your good arm. You weren’t quite sure what to do, so you just opened the door deep within you and let it loose.

There was no way to describe what happened next.

Prisms—mirrored prisms—folded outward from your palm, encasing you both. Bucky stepped back, his eyes wide and his gun still half-raised. The planes mirrored your figures, but you could also see out, a strange doubling-effect. Your heart hammered in your throat as the patrol drew near…and passed right by.

It was as if they didn’t see you at all.

You pulled your hand back, but the barrier stayed. Bucky raised a hand and tentatively touched it, pressing his palm against it’s smooth surface.

“H-How did you do that?” He looked at you in awe.

You were anything but awestruck—you were afraid. You suddenly felt out of control, like you had opened a door that couldn’t be shut, and you had no idea what lay on the other side. You looked back towards the hooded men.

“Y/N?” Bucky seemed to understand you were invisible behind the barrier and he stepped up to you, cradling your face. “Y/N, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

His hands ghosted over your face, checking for fever, checking your injuries. You didn’t know what to tell him. You felt like you were about to burst at the seams, this strange energy coursing though you—it frightened you. You felt dazed, like you couldn’t think straight, and you turned your head towards the hooded men again. There was something— _something_ about them.

You had to hear what they were saying.

“I have to go, Bucky,” you murmured. “I’ll be right back, I promise.”

“Y/N, no—”

“I have to,” you said, laying down on the ground.

“Wait!”

But you were already gone.

***

_You floated above your body, and you could see Bucky desperately shaking it, trying to get you back. You felt bad for leaving, but you would be back soon, and this time you would have answers. Answers about Hydra, about Zemo, and more importantly, about the hooded men._

_You glided above the organized chaos below, everyone oblivious to your presence. As the three men drew closer, you began to pick up on their conversation. Zemo had a thick European accent, and he was listening to reports from the hooded men. They seemed to be searching for something…or someone._

_The larger of the two hooded men had a strange accent, one that stood out in your memory. He was the one you had seen in your Finding at the bunker in Belgium, talking about the transfer of souls. Your attention shifted to the second man, and your blood ran cold._

_You knew that voice. In a thousand lifetimes, you would never forget that voice._

_Gabriel._

_You were now upon the three men, and you drifted closer so you could see under their hoods. There he was, to the left of the man with the strange accent. It was Gabriel, the scourge of your past. You thought he had died in prison, yet here he was, in flesh and blood._

_Your mind was reeling, and you didn’t see the other man’s eyes flick to you and back to Zemo. You drifted around so you could see his face._

_Strong, regal features. Long hair slicked back and tied at his neck. A crimson symbol carved into his forehead. And perhaps, worst of all, his eyes—two obsidian pools, the flesh around the sockets burnt away by a black death._

_Horrified, you floated closer, and that was when you made your mistake._

_The man’s hand shot out with a viper-like quickness, securing itself around your throat. A shock ran through your body, and suddenly…you had one. Glowing, glittering, you raised your hands in shock, your current predicament forgotten._

_Then he began to squeeze. Your hands flew up to your throat as he spoke in his strange accent._

_“Well, well…what do we have here? You must be an apprentice, to have such power, although you’re as clumsy as a novice. Tell me, did Strange send you?”_

_All you could do was squeak. Then Gabriel advanced upon you, his smile widening like a Cheshire cat._

_“I’ll be damned. What do you know, the one person I was looking for, and here you stumble…right into my lap. It’s been a long time, darlin’.”_

_Gabriel reached up and caressed your face. You would have been disgusted if you weren’t so shocked to realize you could actually feel him touch you. Gabriel smirked and turned to the other man._

_“I know her, Master. This is the one I was telling you about. My Finder. She’ll complete our needs quite nicely.”_

_The man looked at him, and then to you. “It does seem strange, you falling into our grasp this way. Tell me, are you here alone?”_

_Gabriel scoffed. “She’s most likely alone—she’s not really the type to have many friends.”_

_The man looked at him, and back at you. You grit your teeth._

_“I’m not telling you shit.”_

_The man’s smile widened, and you didn’t like it one bit. His hands tightened around your throat, and the world went white._

_***_

Bucky watched as the patrol passed by the barrier Y/N constructed. They hadn’t even glanced in his direction. He touched the barrier—it seemed to be made of mirrors, but at the same time it was slightly transparent.

“H-How did you do that?”

He was awestruck. She had just conjured a protective barrier from thin air, and most likely saved both their lives. Y/N didn’t say anything, and he looked over at her. She was staring at the hooded men, and she looked afraid. 

“Y/N?” He gently cradled her face, trying to get her to look at him. “Y/N, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

She wasn’t responding. He felt over her forehead and her injuries, but nothing seemed to be wrong. The injection was still clearly working, but she seemed unsettled, almost in a trance.

Something was wrong.

“I have to go, Bucky,” she murmured. “I’ll be right back, I promise.”

Dread flooded him, and he gripped her shoulders tightly. “Y/N, no—”

“I have to,” she said, laying down on the ground.

Bucky didn’t know how to stop her. Logic told him they had to move on before they were discovered, and another sense, something deeper, told him something very bad was about to happen.

“Wait!”

Y/N’s eyes rolled back, and she was gone.

“No! Please, come back—it’s not safe!”

Bucky didn’t know why he knew, he just did. He held her, but she just lay limply in his arms. Before he had just let her lay on the ground, not wanting to disturb her, but something seemed so insidious about this Finding that all he wanted was for her to come back.

He looked out through the mirrored barrier, wondering where she was. He focused on the three men. He wanted to know more as much as she did, but it was a huge risk and he couldn’t agree with her methods. He recognized Zemo all right, but the other two men in the robes he had never seen before.

Suddenly, the taller man’s arm shot out. Behind him, Y/N’s body twitched on the floor, and Bucky fell to his knees next to her. She seemed okay, and Bucky raised his eyes.

His heart stopped.

Y/N was kicking, struggling, the man’s hand wrapped around her throat. Her body was glowing in his grasp. He could actually _see_ her there, but he didn’t understand—she was still laying right next to him.

The men were talking to her now, cold smirks on their faces. One of them reached up to caress her face, and Bucky saw red. He slammed against the barrier, but it might as well have been made of vibranium for as much as it budged. Bucky pressed his hands against the mirrored surface and watched, completely helpless.

The other man’s head raised and turned in his direction, but his eyes traveled over the tunnel where Bucky was trapped without stopping. Bucky shivered as the man’s eyes passed over him—they were two dark horrors, the surrounding skin burned away to reveal a crimson symbol carved into his forehead.

Zemo stepped up, observing the girl with curiosity, as if she was a pretty butterfly he had managed to snare in his web. The two hooded figures were talking to her again, and this time Bucky could hear her response clearly.

“I’m not telling you shit.”

A surge of admiration warred against the fear Bucky felt, fear that quickly turned to horror as the man smiled darkly and tightened his grip on her throat. His hand seemed to glow, a pulsing, malevolent energy that flowed briefly into her body before returning back to him.

She began to scream.

Horrible, guttural screams tore at Bucky’s heart as he watched the macabre scene in front of him. Dark veins appeared along her throat, starting to run down into her chest and up into her face. Her screams were choked off, and she clawed frantically at the hand around her throat.

Bucky threw himself against the barrier again, completely oblivious to the pain in his back and leg—he couldn’t feel it anymore. Every one of his senses had narrowed down to only her. He had to get to her. He didn’t understand what was happening, but he knew, somehow, that they were killing her.

Suddenly Zemo shifted, looking uncomfortably around the atrium. He spoke quickly to the hooded man, and he eased his grip on Y/N. She fell to the floor in a heap, but before she could get up the other man snatched her up by the arms. She seemed to weigh nothing, half floating between the two men with her head hanging down.

Zemo spoke to the soldier next to him, and the atrium erupted into action.

“Pack it up, we’re moving on!”

Weapons were quickly crated up, computers were collapsed, and Bucky realized the entire room was like a mobile command center. This was why they had such a hard time tracking down Zemo—he was constantly on the move throughout the subway system, deep beneath the city. Someone could hide down here for months if they wanted to…years even.

Bucky rammed his vibranium hand against the barrier, trying to find a weak point. His heart was pounding frantically in his chest, his mind whirling in a barely-controlled panic. He had to get out—he had to get to her. They were about to take her, and he couldn’t even begin to think about what they would do to her. He screamed her name as he desperately hit the barrier; he didn’t care if they heard him or not, he just had to reach her before it was too late.

Two large glowing circles appeared in the center of the room, and Bucky froze for a moment. They seemed to be made of sparks, swirling around what looked like another set of tunnels—a portal. Bucky’s stomach dropped. He recognized those portals.

The Snap. Wandering alone, aimless and confused, until one of those portals appeared along with a man. A long red cape and blue robes, a neatly trimmed goatee.

Dr. Strange.

They were about to take her, and Bucky would have no idea where. He watched helplessly as the Hydra soldiers and technicians entered the portals, leaving nothing behind. Finally, the three men entered the portal, one of the hooded men following the soldiers, and the other following Zemo, still dragging Y/N by the arms.

They walked through the portal, and it vanished.

As soon as the portal closed, the barrier trapping Bucky disappeared. He pitched forward onto the floor, the world momentarily going dark as his knee struck the ground. Pain shot up and down his leg, and he gagged. Fingers clawing at the dirt, he lurched to his feet and stumbled into the room, driven by a burst of adrenaline.

The room was empty. Other than the boot marks on the floor, there wasn’t a sign that Hydra had ever been here. Bucky choked back a sob and limped over to where Y/N’s body lay.

As soon as he got there, he noticed the difference in her. Bucky had been so focused on whatever the men were doing to her glowing form that he forgot about her other half, laying right next to him. Her eyes were closed now, and she seemed even paler than before. He touched a hand to her forehead, and drew it back in shock. She was cold…really cold. Almost as if she were—

_No. No, no, no…_

Bucky didn’t bother to check for a pulse. He pressed his ear to her chest, desperately listening for her heartbeat. Panic began to build when he didn’t hear anything, and then, finally, the slightest flutter against his cheek. He waited even longer, and there it was again.

A wave of relief washed over Bucky, and he drew her into his arms. It was short lived, however. Her heart had seemed weaker. He knew it would be different because she was traveling, but something about this was all wrong. Those men were hurting her, draining her somehow.

“Y/N, sweetheart, please…come back. You have to come back, you have to fight it.”

Even as he said it, he knew it was hopeless. She would have already returned if she could. Something was wrong—he had to get her out of here. He had to get her to Dr. Strange.

As gently as he could, Bucky lifted her in his arms, his back and leg screaming in protest. He limped across the atrium as quickly as he could, thanking god that he knew where he was. There was a set of stairs closed off by an iron gate that would lead him up to the main subway levels.

Through the gate and up the stairs, Bucky walked on, following the tracks out. This section was still abandoned, but at least he was on the main level now. He shifted Y/N’s body to a fireman’s carry, and pressed the commlink in his ear, praying it was still working.

The minutes passed by. Onto another platform and through another gate, Bucky kept calling out for Sam and Sharon. They should be able to hear him by now, but he was all the way over in Manhattan, somewhere near Tribeca, judging by the signage.

Bucky was finally starting to tire. They’d been underground for almost two days, and not only was he severely dehydrated, but he hadn’t been able to eat enough to keep up with his enhanced metabolism. Pain was starting to return in great waves, his vision blurring and greying around the edges. He leaned heavily against the wall for support as he walked, clenching his teeth against the pain until he felt like his teeth would break.

His vision went dark for a moment, and Bucky reached a hand out, grabbing at the wall to stop himself from pitching forward onto the tracks. Gasping for breath, he ignored the cold sweat that had begun to trickle down his face as he fished in his pocket for the other auto-injector. Finally he had it, and he slammed it into his thigh before his shaking hand could drop it.

Bucky closed his eyes against the wave of nausea that followed the heavy dose or morphine, and when he opened them again his vision was clear. He pushed off the wall and continued down the tracks, his steps steadier as the painkiller/stimulant cocktail took effect.

He couldn’t stop. He _wouldn’t_ stop—he had to get to Sam. Sam would know what to do, he would know how to find Dr. Strange. Bucky hadn’t protected Y/N from those men, but he would get her out. He would get her help.

“Sam…Sam, do you hear me?”

“B…nes! Barnes...you? Th…Sam, I…hear you.”

Bucky nearly wept with relief.

***

“…am…Sam do yo…me?”

Sam spun on his heel, walking towards the entrance to the tunnels. It had been almost forty eight hours since they had entered the warehouse. Crews had changed multiple times and Sharon had begged him to get some rest, but Sam refused to leave—not while his guys were still trapped down there.

“Barnes! Barnes, is that you? This is Sam, I can…I can hear you.”

“Sa…Shar…is there anyone on…quency? Can…ear me?”

The voice on the commlink was so garbled by static it was difficult to make out, but Sam knew that voice anywhere. Hope bloomed in his chest, and he walked outside, trying to pick up a better signal.

“Barnes. Bucky, I can hear you, where are you?”

“Sam?” This time it came in clear, and he could hear relief in Bucky’s voice. “Sam we’re up at the main subway level now, on the blue line. It looks like we’re going to be coming up at the…Canal Street Station.”

Sam squeezed his eyes shut in relief. When he opened them, Sharon was standing in front of him, her eyes wide with concern. He grabbed her arm and motioned to the waiting cars.

“Okay Buck, we’re on our way.” Sam jumped into the passenger seat, and Sharon pealed out, lighting up the dash. “Are you guys okay? Are you hurt?”

Bucky’s voice was strained. “We’re both beat up a little, but Y/N…something’s wrong. We need to get her to Dr. Strange, do you know how to find him?”

“Bucky, what—”

“Sam this is important! We found Zemo, he’s got a couple of guys that were dressed like Strange, and they did something to her…I don’t know what they did, but we’ve gotta find him.”

Bucky’s voice was sounded downright frantic, and that worried Sam more than anything. He pulled out his phone, starting to dial Strange’s number.

“I’m on it Buck, I’m calling him right now. We’ll meet you at Canal Street—it’s close to Strange, he lives on Bleecker Street.”

Heavy breathing, and the sound of a gate being wrenched open. “The wizard lives in Greenwich Village?”

“Yeah.”

Sam dialed Strange’s number, and it was answered on the first ring.

“Sam Wilson. Or should I call you Captain Wilson, now?”

“No time Strange, we’ve got a situation.” Sam explained what Bucky told him, and the man’s entire demeanor changed.

“Wong and I will be ready for your arrival. Bring the girl in the front entrance.”

The car screeched to a stop near the Canal Street subway station, and Sam leapt out. He jogged down the stairs, Sharon right on his heels. He jumped the turnstiles, the transit cop staring wide-eyed at the sight of Captain America and a blond haired woman in a tight black suit running down the platform.

Sam rounded the corner, and there they were. People were staring at them, and for good reason—they looked like they had just dug their way out of a pit.

Sam was shocked at Bucky’s appearance. He was filthy, covered head to toe in mud, dirt, and blood. A makeshift bandage was wrapped around his head, and he was limping heavily. Underneath, his skin was pale, and as he drew closer Sam could see the fear and anger in his eyes.

Then he caught sight of the limp form Bucky held tightly in his arms.

Sam and Sharon ran up to him. He could see the relief and worry in Bucky’s eyes as Sam took Y/N from him. Sam carried her up and out of the station, Sharron following behind with Bucky’s arm slung across her shoulder.

Sam laid Y/N across the back seat of the car and Sharon helped Bucky into the back, and he laid across the footwell, leaning against the door so he could see Y/N’s face. Sam’s rear had barely hit the front seat when Sharon peeled out, flashing the lights as they headed towards 177A Bleecker Street.

“What happened?” Sam asked.

Bucky brushed Y/N’s hair back from her forehead, his expression grim. “Got caught in a cave-in, fell down a couple levels. Had to walk most of the way, swim some of it. Y/N found the way for us mostly, and we stumbled across a Hydra Cell at the old Worth Street Station. Zemo was there, along with those guys I told you about.”

“They the guys with the hoods? Like Strange?”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah. A patrol came, and Y/N…she made…it was like a barrier, or something. It hid us from them, but she could astral project out of it—I was stuck. I told her not to, but she wouldn’t listen.” Bucky’s voice broke on the last word. “One of the hooded guys, he reached his hand out, and she just appeared there, only she was…she was glowing.”

He reached out and took her hand, smoothing his thumb across her knuckles. Bucky looked like he was one step away from a breakdown. “Her body was still right next to me though, I don’t get it. The guy, he…he did something, and she started screaming. It—” Bucky squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “And then they just opened one of those portal things Strange uses, and they were gone. All of them. As soon as they disappeared, the barrier vanished, and I was free.”

“So she was just astral traveling?”

“Yeah, but they did something to her.” Bucky ran his fingers over her forehead anxiously. “Her eyes are closed now, and her skin’s cold—really cold. She was pale before, but now…”

Sam looked at her. He couldn’t reach her in the back seat and knew that if she were astral traveling right now a set of vitals would be useless, but still—she didn’t look good. It looked like she was fading away, right before their eyes. Bucky looked haggard and about two steps away from passing out on his feet, but his eyes were still sharp and fixed on her.

Sam chewed his lip as Sharon swerved onto Bleecker Street. He was worried about her, but if anyone could help her it was Strange. It certainly sounded like some of his wizard bullshit, which meant they were in way over their heads. If Zemo had allied himself with the likes of him, they were in some serious trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, they finally found Zemo, and now she's kidnapped...sort of. And Gabriel is back, probably with an axe to grind. Poor Bucky and Reader, they just can't get a break (but it's me, so you should probably be prepared for lots of angst to balance out the fluff.)
> 
> Any guesses on who I brought back from the dead? Hopefully the Dr. Strange tie in didn't throw too many for a loop, I tried to put enough clues in so it wouldn't be a complete surprise. Anyway, let me know what you think, thanks for reading!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: Injuries, Magical Healing, Language, Brief non-con touching, References to drug use, References to suicide, Angst
> 
> Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Depression, PTSD, References to Drug use, References to Rape/NonCon, Angst, Fluff

“Aw look, she’s awake.”

You groaned and rolled away from the sound of the taunting voice. Everything hurt, which was quite impressive since you didn’t even have a body right now. To say you felt the pain down to the depths of your soul would be accurate, because you realized that’s what this glowing version of you was.

And they were slowly killing it.

Gabriel’s face swam into view, and you resisted the urge to spit in it. You probably didn’t have any spit anyway. He chuckled and gripped your jaw painfully, twisting your head so he could look at you.

“Lookin’ good, Y/N. I’ve got to say, seeing you now I’m kinda regretting how we left things…then again, that was your call, not mine.”

Gabriel’s eyes drifted lewdly over your body. “I missed that ass though—”

“Fuck you,” you snarled with all the strength you could muster, which at that point, wasn’t much. You tried to scoot away from him, but he laughed and pulled you back.

“You did…repeatedly. And I seem to recall you havin’ no complaints—”

He cut off as you tried to knee him in the groin, but you went right through him. It seemed that while he could touch you, your astral form couldn’t reciprocate.

_What the hell is this?_

“Aw, don’t be like that darlin’. We used to be good together.” He looked over to where the other man was talking with Zemo, and back at you. “Could’ve knocked me over with a feather when I saw you just now. Here I was, searching high and low for you, and you ended up coming right to me…didja miss me?”

Gabriel lazily traced down the line of your throat, his eyes never leaving yours. He traced over your breasts and down onto your stomach, grinning as he watched you squirm. You were so weak you could barely lift your arms.

“Just you and me left of the old gang now, babe. The rest are all dead. I hunted down each and every one of those traitorous freaks…and we sucked them dry.”

His hand was around your jaw again, his thumb running over your bottom lip and dipping into your mouth. You stifled a gag and twisted your head away. Gabriel laughed.

“I gotta be honest, I’m surprised you’re still alive. I heard you got out…only did two years…but I figured you’d fall back to your old ways, end up OD’ing in some shitty little apartment or just say fuck it and put a bullet in your brain…end your miserable existence.”

He wasn’t smiling now. Here was the Gabriel you knew—Jekyll and Hyde embodied.

“I’m really glad you’re here, though, because you’re gonna help us. We’re almost there—just a little more juice and we’ll have enough power to make the transfer. I don’t think they’ll use all of you…at least, I hope not.”

Gabriel dropped his hood, and you gasped as you saw the left side of his face. Burn scars covered the left side of his head, his ear a melted horror. He had once been a handsome man, but now he looked like the monster he was.

“I’ve got ten years of payback comin’ your way, you ungrateful bitch. You’ll be begging for death long before I’m done with you.”

The two men approached, and the switched was flipped—Gabriel was his old smiling self again.

“But now, I think it’s time you met my friends.”

“Master Gabriel, it’s not nice to play with your food.”

Gabriel stood, addressing the other hooded figure. “Sorry Master Kaecilius, Y/N and me were just gettin’ re-acquainted.”

Kaecilius brushed him off. He crouched down, and you tried not to shudder away from those horrible dark eyes.

“Hello, little one, I’m glad you could join us. We’ve been discussing you—Gabriel here has been telling us all about your special talents.”

“Wh-what do you want with me?” You tried to sound braver than you felt.

He tenderly brushed the hair from your eyes. “Originally, just your soul. I must say, I was quite surprised by that first taste I had back in the tunnels—you’re much more powerful than Gabriel led us to believe. Now, I think we have another use for you…after we’ve taken a bit more, that is.”

The third man bent down into view. Zemo.

“You work for Captain America, no?”

You clenched your jaw. You weren’t going to tell them anything.

“It doesn’t matter, we already know you do. Which means you know where the Winter Soldier is.”

“What do you want with me? I don’t know anythi—”

Your words were cut off with a scream as Kaecilius touched your forehead, blinding pain shooting through your head.

“Don’t lie.”

“You can tell us darlin’, or we’ll take it from you,” Gabriel said. “I suggest you talk…the second way can get a little messy.”

Zemo placed a restraining hand on his shoulder. “I don’t want her damaged too much. We have to keep her alive until we can retrieve her body—I want both of them for the program.”

You blinked to clear your vision—you felt so weak. None of this made any sense. Souls? _Master_ Gabriel? How long had he been working for Hydra? Better yet—how was he still alive? You’d heard he died in prison. And what did they want with Bucky? You closed your eyes as your vision swam. You felt like you were going to pass out again.

But first, you needed to get as much information as you could out of them. Two could play that game.

“What program?” you asked.

“I assume you’ve heard of Arnim Zola and his work?”

“Yeah—he’s dead,” you spat. “The bastard died back in the seventies, and his _work_ has been lost.”

Zemo chuckled at your spunk. “Half-correct. The man is dead but his soul lives on…I believe your Captain America met him, right before SHIELD obliterated the bunker.”

Seeing your confused look, Zemo continued. “In the final years of his life, Zola became obsessed with the mystic arts. He was convinced that he could preserve his soul and be resurrected at a later time, to pick up his work once more. His _true_ work.”

“Which is…”

“Creating the perfect soldier.”

“Yeah, he already did that. He—”

“Your Sergeant Barnes is quite magnificent, I must admit—I’ve seen him in action. He is, though far from perfect.”

You clenched your jaw. You weren’t going to give this man an inch.

“You see, the more Zola learned of the mystic arts, the more he realized what he had done. The laborious process of ‘programming’ the Asset actually split Barnes’ soul in two. Two halves—the man, and the soldier.

“It was why Barnes was able to fight his programing, again and again. He was always at war with himself—indeed, he still is. The light battling the dark. Zola realized that he’d uncovered the perfect way to control the Asset, no tedious electro-shock or trigger words needed.”

You clenched your jaw. “And how was he going to do that?”

“By extinguishing the light.”

You felt like you were going to be sick. They were going to destroy the only good left in Bucky—destroy the man and leave the soldier. And you knew now from personal experience that Kaecilius could do just that.

“Alas, he was too late,” Zemo continued. “Zola’s physical form died in 1972, but he was still able to download his consciousness into a computer system AI he created...at least, that’s what it looked like to an outsider. What he was actually doing was preserving his soul. All we had to do was find it.”

“And what are you planning on doing with it?” you asked. If this pompous asshole wanted to reveal his entire plan to you, then who were you to stop him?

“Finish what he started. Retrieve the formula and revive the Winter Soldier program.”

Dread flooded you. Your mind reeled in confusion—half of what he was talking about made absolutely no sense, but if he was telling the truth…if it was actually possible…

You had to get back. You had to warn Bucky.

Kaecilius was tiring of the game. “Enough, Zemo. Let’s get what we need and get on with it. I’ve waited long enough.”

He stood. “Master Gabriel, hold her here.”

Kaecilius left your field of vision, and soon it was just you and Gabriel again. He pulled a large signet ring off his hand, and considered it for a moment before speaking.

“It’s almost kinda funny, you working with the Avengers now,” he said with a sideways grin, “after so many years of working for Hydra.”

_What?_

He held up the ring so you could see it. It was that strange looking skull with the tentacles, the one you had seen at the Hydra Bunker. Suddenly your eyes widened. You remembered seeing it before, now—the ring on his hand, and on the packets of drugs he used to give you to enhance your abilities.

Hydra. You had been working for them, that whole time.

Gabriel laughed. “Goddamn, I think I actually just saw a light bulb come on over your head. You dumb bitch, it was right there in front of you the whole time, you just never cared to notice. Here you are, thinking you’ve gone clean, but you just ended up circling back to us.”

He glanced over at Kaecilius, and back to you.

“We’re gonna take what we need from you, and then you’re gonna fall back in line—I’ll make sure of it.”

He twisted the ring in his fingers before pulling down the collar of your shirt. The ring hovered over your collarbone.

“But first, darlin’, I need to remind you who you belong to.”

He pressed the ring to your skin, and you screamed. Pain, white hot, ripped through your mind. It was burning, searing its mark on you. You could feel a little bit of your soul blacken at the edges, and you grimly held on to whatever consciousness you had left.

***

The SUV screeched to a halt in front of a large stone building. It looked like a museum or a library, rather than the home of an eccentric wizard.

Bucky didn’t care if it were the Taj Mahal or a shack in the woods, as long as there was someone inside who could help Y/N.

Bucky picked up her body as gently as he could, brushing off Sam’s offer of help. He had taken the other auto-injector in the car on the way there, and he felt much better. Sam gave him several pointed looks as he took in his injuries, but Bucky ignored him.

They’d barely crossed the threshold when the wizard’s voice rang out.

“Set her down there, Sergeant,” Strange said as he came down the stairs, not exactly running but moving with a definite sense of urgency. A bald man followed closely behind.

Strange crouched down next to her and Bucky rocked back on his heels, reluctantly giving them some space. Strange placed a hand on her forehead, lifting slightly as if trying to draw something out. He frowned, and passed his hands over her body as his scowl deepened.

“What’s wrong with her? Is…is she going to be okay?” Bucky tried to keep his voice even, but the question sounded as weak and scared as he felt.

 _“Anima Uncta Devorare,”_ Strange said softly.

The bald man’s head came up sharply. “You’re certain?”

“Yes.”

Bucky looked frantically from one wizard to the other. “What does that mean? What—"

“Wong, take her below and prepare her. Sergeant Barnes, come with me.”

Sam helped him to his feet. Bucky felt like he was spiraling out of control. Two more robed figures appeared, lifting Y/N’s body to carry it away.

“No! Get your hands off her!”

Bucky was feral, wild—oblivious to the pain that was re-emerging, and oblivious to the hands that tried to hold him back.

“Bucky! They’re just trying to help her, man—calm down!”

Suddenly, he couldn’t move. Strange had his palm pointed towards him, fingers splayed. Bucky struggled, but he was completely immobile.

“Sergeant Barnes, your girlfriend’s soul is being devoured by a dark being as we speak. If you want to save her life, you need to do exactly as I say. If you try to impede our efforts I’ll be forced to incapacitate you, and I’d rather not do that.”

Bucky blanched. She really was dying.

The world felt like it was crashing down around him. After everything they’d been through, everything they’d survived, Y/N couldn’t die—she couldn’t. Bucky felt like he couldn’t breathe. Part of him wanted to shove his way past all the outlandishly robed figures and fight his way to her side, just to be near her. The other part of him just wanted to curl into a ball and cry.

He felt Sam’s hand squeeze his shoulder as he was released. Bucky collapsed to the floor, his knee striking the stones hard. He nearly blacked out as pain shot straight through to his brain.

“Bucky—your leg.” Sam’s voice was drawn with concern.

He felt Sam’s hands gently probing his knee, and he brushed them off with a growl as he struggled to his feet. Sam gripped his arm tightly.

“Your leg’s broken, Barnes. You can’t walk on—”

“I’m fine.”

Sam shook his head and muttered something about stubborn assholes. Still, he maintained his grip on the super soldier’s arm, helping him stay upright as they followed Strange into a library. Strange’s attitude was aloof as he searched amongst the books, pulling out several dusty tomes and handing them to Sam.

“All right, what happened?”

Bucky told him. A single eyebrow raised when he told Strange about what she could do.

“You’re saying she can read touch-memory? That she can enter the astral plane and summon the mirror realm?”

“And she did that hand-wavy thing and made the door appear when we were at the warehouse,” Sam added helpfully.

Bucky ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “I-I guess…I don’t know what any of it’s called, but—look, how is this helping her? We’re wasting time—”

Strange waved a hand impatiently. “Continue.”

Bucky did, with Sam supplying a few of the details. Through it all, Strange’s demeanor never wavered, not until Bucky described the man with the symbol carved into his forehead. He whirled, gripping Bucky tightly by the shoulders and almost knocking him over.

“Say that again.”

“He had long silver hair, tied back, and he had a strange accent. His eyes…they were dark…burned at the edges. There was a symbol carved into his forehead, like two half circles.”

A muscle twitched in Strange’s jaw. “Kaecilius.”

That seemed to light a fire under the man, and Bucky wasn’t sure if that made him feel better or worse. He was getting thoroughly irritated with the wizard, and his lack of knowledge about the situation was causing the panic to well up again.

Strange didn’t say another word, he just took off down the hallway, his red cape billowing absurdly behind him. Sam and Bucky exchanged a look and they followed, Sam finally drawing Bucky’s arm over his shoulders for support.

Strange stopped at a section of blank wall. He waved his hand, and a door appeared out of nowhere. Without stopping or a word of explanation, he passed through it, descending down dark steps. A snap of his fingers and a ball of flame ignited in his hand, lighting their way.

The stairs opened to a low chamber, deep underneath the Sanctum. It looked like a medieval dungeon. Dread flooded Bucky’s veins, and his heart clenched when he saw the figure in the center of the room.

Y/N was laying prone on a raised stone dais. She was still dressed in her filthy tee shirt and uniform pants from the tunnel, but the sling had been removed and both arms lay motionless at her sides. He felt sick, seeing how pale she was, the cuts and bruises standing out in sharp contrast despite the dim light in the chamber.

Two wizards were standing over her, holding their hands out and projecting glowing geometric designs over her body. The taller of the two looked up as they entered.

“We’ve stabilized her, Master Strange, but whatever it is…it’s massively strong.”

“Thank you, Master Lucian. Master Wong, I’ve got it from here,” Strange said, rolling up his sleeves.

“Do you know who the _Devoratrix_ is?” Wong asked as he lifted his hands and stepped back.

“Kaecilius.”

The man’s face remained expressionless, but an ominous mood had settled over the chamber. Wong drew Sam and Bucky back against the wall. Bucky simply let himself be led, his eyes never leaving Y/N’s body—he felt dizzy with worry and utterly helpless. 

Wong lifted his hand and conjured what Bucky now knew to be the mirror realm.

“This could get messy,” he explained.

Bucky felt himself start to sway, and Sam’s hand tightened on his arm.

“Bucky, sit down before you fall down. You look—”

“I’m fine,” he muttered again, pressing up against the mirrors so he could see her.

The two wizards were chanting now, low and quiet as the glowing shapes rotated, becoming more and more complex. Bucky murmured her name, his stomach clenching as he watched helplessly.

Sam’s hand was on his shoulder again. “She’s going to be okay Bucky, they’ll bring her back, right Wong?”

The bald man nodded, watching the proceedings with morbid interest. “Most likely,” he agreed.

Bucky’s head snapped to him. “What do you mean, _most likely_?” he growled.

Wong folded his hands, looking introspective. “She’s being held by two very powerful Masters, and one of them has gained to ability to consume souls. _Anima Uncta Devorare—_ it’s Latin for The Devourer of Souls.”

Seeing he had a captive audience, the librarian excitedly continued. “It’s very old and dark magic, a skill only obtained by forming a pact with a demon. The man you spoke of, Kaecilius, he was a former Master here, and he favored dark and ancient practices that are forbidden by our Order. If he’s returned, he will be a very formidable opponent indeed.”

“So what do they want with her?” Sam asked.

“Kaecilius is consuming her soul—to what end, I’m not sure, but a _Devoratrix_ consumes souls for power. Enhanced individuals bring the most power, and from what you say, the girl is already quite skilled in the Mystic Arts.”

“That glowing form—that was her _soul_?” Bucky felt sick.

Wong nodded. “Yes.”

“What happens if he consumes it? Can we—”

“She dies,” Wong said simply. “The body cannot live without a soul.”

He nodded towards the macabre scene, oblivious to the horrified look on Bucky’s face. “She’s already quite weak, and her body is shutting down. I suspect they may have already started to drain her, but they’ve stopped for some reason. I’m not sure if—”

Abruptly, the chanting stopped, and Bucky could hear the two wizards conversing in low, distressed tones. Master Lucien stepped back in shock, and Bucky suddenly smelled the stench of burning flesh. Strange pulled down the collar of Y/N’s shirt, and he saw a small red mark burning through her skin near her collarbone.

“What is that? What’s happening?!” Bucky was pressed against the barricade, trying to see.

Wong peered nearsightedly through the mirrors. “It appears to be a skull and tentacles, rather like an octopus.”

Bucky froze, and he felt his gorge rise. Hydra—the bastards were burning the symbol right into her.

“It’s a dark soul mark,” Wong explained, “created when a dark entity has claimed another soul as its own. It seems as if they’re not going to drain her immediately, perhaps they’re saving—”

“Wong, get out here,” Strange said tersely. “I need you to help Lucian hold her.”

The mirror realm vanished, and Wong stepped through. Bucky started to follow, but it flickered back within seconds, halting him.

“It’s too strong for the usual methods, I’m going to go get her myself,” Strange said as Wong took his place by the girl’s side.

Bucky’s stomach clenched as he watched Strange lay down on the dais next to her. Immediately, the wizard’s glowing form emerged, hovering for a moment before disappearing completely.

***

The pain stopped abruptly. You heard shouting, sparks and strange glowing prisms flying through the air. You must have been hallucinating.

You drifted.

It was a strange feeling, to be there and to be _not_ there at the same time. You were doubled, feeling the cold stone beneath you here, but also faintly aware of your real body. You weren’t sure where it was anymore…you couldn’t think straight, but you could feel it starting to slow.

Withering. Dying.

They had taken more of your soul. The last thing you remembered was Gabriel’s taunting voice in your ear before the world dissolved in a white haze of pain. They stopped, and you weren’t sure why, but you were grateful.

Maybe they’d already taken what they needed.

Then you felt hands under your body, lifting you up. Hands that were there and not there. A flowing cape and a trimmed goatee, glowing like you.

“This is…strange,” you murmured as you began to fade again.

The man chuckled, but you weren’t sure why.

***

No one moved. It seemed to Bucky that the world had simply stopped. Even the dust particles seemed to freeze midair, and the only sound he could hear was the rush of his own blood in his ears as his heart thudded painfully in his chest.

“He’s coming.”

Wong’s warning was all he had before Strange’s glowing figure popped back into view. Y/N’s astral form was draped limply in his arms. He handed her off to Wong, and the two forms melded into one.

Y/N gasped, her back arching off the dais. Her eyes flew open, and she coughed violently and Lucian and Wong gently restrained her.

The mirrored barricade disappeared, and Bucky lurched forward, shoving away Sam’s hands as he tried to help. Wong stood to the side as the super soldier barreled forward. Y/N’s eyes latched on his, and she reached for him.

Two more steps, and he was there. Bucky whispered to her soothingly, lifting her in his arms and cradling her head. She was barely breathing, and her eyes kept drifting. Her lips moved, mouthing his name.

“Y/N, sweetheart, I’m right here. I’ve got you…you’re safe.”

Her lips twitched into a faint smile, and her eyes fluttered closed. More hands were on her now, and Bucky flinched, instinctively protecting her before he realized it was only Strange, checking her pulse.

“She’s still too weak Sergeant. She needs medical attention—you both do,” he said, eyeing Bucky up and down with a raised eyebrow.

Bucky didn’t hear him. He lowered his head and tenderly kissed her forehead, ignoring the tears that melted into her hair as he held her tightly. He felt exhausted beyond words, and he gently rocked her, finally able to breathe again.

“Master Wong, please notify the healers.” Strange turned, and seeing Bucky completely absorbed with Y/N, he addressed Sam. “We’ll get them fixed up, Captain, and then I think a long talk needs to be had by all.”

***

Sam leaned back in the chair, sipping on the coffee one of the healers had brought him. He’d filled Sharon in on what had happened, and sent her back to round up the rest of SHIELD and take them back to the Compound. Sam groaned when he thought of the mountain of paperwork that awaited him. Ross had been demanding an update, and he honestly didn’t know where he’d begin.

His mind reeled over everything that had happened in the past three days. Perhaps the most astonishing of all was the introduction of this new angle—the Masters of the Mystic Arts. Sam kicked himself for not seeing it sooner. It was so obvious. With all of Y/N’s abilities, that was really the only explanation.

Sam looked over at the two figures laying on the beds front of him. They looked like they’d gone through hell, and Sam supposed that in a way, they had.

He was extremely impressed with the healer’s abilities.

Bucky’s leg was indeed broken, in two different places around his knee. He was concussed and severely dehydrated, as was Y/N. She had a broken arm and ribs, and a dislocated shoulder that Bucky had set. Numerous cuts and bruises between the two of them, along with the exhaustion of being awake and walking for nearly forty-eight hours with no food.

Spells and incantations, potions and sorcery. The healers had worked their magic—which indeed, it was. Now the two slept, looking infinitely better than they had only an hour ago.

Strange assured him that Bucky would wake soon, completely healed thanks to his own serum and the healer’s work. Y/N would take a little bit longer as her soul healed, but he’d given Sam the green light to bring them both back to the Compound tomorrow. It really was just like magic, now that he thought of it.

Maybe he should consider bringing a few of Strange’s healers on at the Compound.

The only thing the healers hadn’t been able to fix was the soul mark. They explained that it wasn’t harmful—soul marks were more like very permanent tattoos, meant to signify ownership, but while it wasn’t dangerous it was burnt into her soul, and she’d have it for the rest of her life.

Sam sipped his coffee. Hydra—and Zemo—had been found, tunneled deep beneath the streets of New York. The Mystic Arts were involved now, and they still had the mystery bodies from the alcove to deal with. There was a larger plan at work here, but Sam would just have to wait until Bucky and Y/N woke up to piece together the details.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should be picking up the pace on my updates for this story, I just finished one of my other big fics, and I'm going to focus more on this one. No promises as to a schedule, I'm still posting as soon as the chapters are done, but it should be rolling out more quickly. 
> 
> Thank you for all the comments and kudos, and thank you for reading!


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: Angst, Fluff, Smut, Discussion of Rape/NonCon, Discussion of Drug Use, Discussion of Criminal Activity/Murder
> 
> Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Depression, PTSD, References to Drug use, References to Rape/NonCon, Angst, Fluff

_“All your fault, you little freak…everything was fine before you came along.”_

_Your father had fixed that little problem…permanently. So why was it his eyes that you saw when your looked in the mirror?_

_His darkness._

_Swisher-Sweets. Black and Mild._

_The summer of your thirteenth year. The stench of stale beer and your foster father’s hands on your ass. “Why don’t you come sit by me, babydoll?_

_Then later…three six-packs deep…when he’d visit you in the room you shared with your foster sister. You’d hope he would pick her that night, and you’d feel ashamed._

_It seemed he rarely did._

_And it would happen…again._

_And again._

_Garbage burning in a fifty-five gallon drum, every homeless cliché firmly in place. Except the fear. They never talked about that. They always talked about the cold and the hunger, but that seemed like it’d be a given._

_“Hey darlin’, what’s a sweet young thing like you doin’ in a place like this?”_

_Gabriel._

_“Say—you’re somethin’ special, aren’t you?”_

_“Why don’t you come sit by me…I’ll keep you safe.”_

_“My little Finder. My special girl.”_

_Freak, is what he meant. It’s what you all were._

_“I can’t do it Gabriel! I’m not strong enough!”_

_“Shhh…don’t worry baby, you just need to expand your mind. Here…try this…”_

_The little packet had an octopus on it. An octopus with a skull. Gabriel had the same tattoo on his forearm._

_Soon, even that wasn’t enough. You couldn’t get enough. The power. The control. Seeing fear in someone else’s eyes for once._

_Gabriel kept you on a tight leash. First with the sex, then with the drugs. He beat you after your first arrest, when you tried to score on your own. You didn’t even know what you were looking for, nothing came close to what came in that little white packet._

_Weeks melted into months melted into years._

_You didn’t even know who the girl was in the mirror anymore._

_The eyes were the same, though. Darkness._

Warm hands on your face, calming you. A soft voice, calling your name. Sounding worried. Your heart was pounding, and your breath came in ragged gasps as your dream evaporated, leaving you only smoky tendrils that you couldn’t quite grasp.

Your eyes felt like lead weights…too heavy to open. You curled towards the sound of the voice as strong arms encircled you.

You breathed in…Bucky.

“Wake up, sweetheart. C’mon…please…open your eyes for me.”

_Wait. How did I get here? I was just—Gabriel? No. That was a dream. But I was dying. I was scared. Everything hurt. Bucky was hurt. How is he here right now?_

“Bucky?”

Your voice was hoarse and your head felt fuzzy. You frowned, seeing you were laying in your own bed at the Compound. Blue eyes, wide with concern, stared back at you. Bucky was laying propped up on one arm next to you in the bed, his other hand cupping your face worriedly.

“Y/N? Honey, are you…are you here with me?”

“Bucky!”

You gasped and sat bolt upright, nearly smacking your forehead against his. Shock flashed across his eyes for a second before you launched into his arms and pulled him into a tight embrace.

Bucky buried his nose in your hair and let out a sob of relief.

“I thought I lost you, Y/N, I…I thought…”

Then his lips were on yours, and you melted into his warmth. Bucky’s lips parted, and you could feel every ounce of desperation, relief, and love in his kiss. He broke away to tenderly kiss your forehead, and you saw he was struggling not to cry.

“Bucky, what—h-how did I get here? What happened?”

He shook his head and sniffed, swallowing thickly. Whatever it was, it had been bad. You were having a real hard time remembering anything after entering the warehouse. Everything was floating…fragmented. You couldn’t tell what was real and what had been your dream.

Bucky’s eyes flicked back and forth between yours, assessing.

“How are you feeling? Are you in any pain?”

You thought about the question for a minute, frowning. You felt fine—better than fine, actually.

“My head feels kinda fuzzy and I’m…it’s all jumbled, but I feel good…like I’ve been asleep for years. How long—”

“Three days. You’ve been asleep for three days.” The way he said it told you it had been the longest three days of his life.

You frowned.

“How much can you remember, Y/N?” he asked gently.

“I…I remember the tunnels, and the…the bodies, and the cave-in.” You gasped. “The cave-in! Bucky, your leg—are you—”

You pulled back the covers, expecting to see a cast or bandages at the very least. Bucky was wearing sweatpants, his leg bent at a normal angle as he sat with you, no bandage in sight. You gave him a quick once-over in astonishment. The only evidence you could find of the cave-in was a thin scar that ran from his forehead to his temple.

Then you looked down at your arm. Not a hint of bruising, nor any indication that it had been broken only a few days ago. An experimental rotation of your shoulder confirmed the same thing.

“You were healed—we both were,” he said, brushing your chin with his thumb tenderly. “Like it never happened.”

“How—”

“It’s a long, long story, but we’re both okay…um, what else do you remember?”

Bucky was pressing for something, but you weren’t sure what. Your head was starting to clear, though, bits and pieces coming back.

You didn’t like what was coming back.

Killing the Hydra agent. The water. The endless walking.

_“I love you Y/N. I think I’ve loved you since that first time you Found for me, the first time you showed me how much you cared. The first time you said you trusted me. I’ve loved you every moment since then, I was just too afraid to say it.”_

You remembered telling Bucky you loved him. Laying with him in the dirt of the tunnel, feeling safe despite the danger. You always felt safe with him.

“Do you remember finding Hydra? Zemo and the hooded men?” His tone was neutral.

Your eyes widened a bit. Gabriel.

It wasn’t a dream, then.

How much of it was true? Had he really been working for Hydra all along?

You knew the answer to that.

“Who’s Gabriel?” he asked.

Your breathing stopped, and you looked up at Bucky. He wasn’t angry. He was looking at you intently, his eyes liquid with concern.

How were you going to do this? Your past alone was bad enough, but how were you going to tell him you used to work—voluntarily—for Hydra?

“I…How…”

“You were talking in your sleep, Y/N. You were unconscious for the past three days, but you must have been dreaming, because you kept saying that name. Who is he? Did he hurt you? Is he one of the hooded men? I know who the other one is, Strange told us—”

“Who?”

You pulled away from him slightly. Bucky was pushing you, harder than he ever had before. It was making you uncomfortable. He still didn’t answer your question.

“Did you know those men?”

“What?”

“The hooded men. It was like…you were in a trance, or something. You just _left_ , and there was nothing I could do. The look on your face—Y/N, what’s going on? What aren’t you telling me?”

You were panicking. This…you couldn’t handle this.

“I…I don’t know what you—"

“Don’t lie to me, Y/N.” His tone was clipped and short, and you cringed away.

Bucky saw the look on your face and exhaled sharply. He scrubbed a hand down his face and looked at you, but he still wasn’t angry. He looked terrified.

Bucky reached forward and took your hand in both of his. He sat there, staring at it for a bit before looking at you directly in the eyes.

“You almost died. You were screaming. I…I had to sit there, completely helpless, and watch as they tried to save you. I can’t go through something like that again.”

He took your face in his hands, his eyes shining.

“I love you, Y/N,” he said. “I would do anything for you—I would burn down the world for you. Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out together. I don’t care how bad it is, just tell me. I…I can’t protect you if I don’t know what’s going on.”

You reached up and gripped his wrist, squeezing your eyes shut as the tears came.

“I’m sorry, Bucky. I’m sorry I left you, I…I just…”

Bucky’s lips tightened and he brushed at your tears with his thumbs. “Shh…it’s okay, sweetheart. Just talk to me. Please.”

You sniffed and angrily wiped your face. Hugging your knees to your chest, you stared at the bedsheets and began to talk.

“Gabriel was one of the hooded men. I don’t know who the other one was, but…he’s powerful. They both are. They…they took me, and they wanted to use me to power the transfer of Armin Zola’s soul into a living person. So they could re-instate the Winter Soldier Program. They want _you_ , Bucky. I don’t really understand why, but they want you back.”

Bucky was staring at you, his face as white as a sheet. Grimly, you grit your teeth and continued. Time to rip the scab off once and for all.

“Gabriel was the leader of a gang of misfits. Freaks, like me. I met him in Baltimore, after running away from my foster home. I ran…I ran…”

You swallowed thickly at the bile in your throat. “I ran because my foster father would touch me. Me and my foster sister, he would…do things to us…make us do things to him. I ran when I was fourteen, but I left her there. I don’t know what happened to her.”

Bucky was a statue, but you could hear the metal plates in his arm whirring in agitation. You ignored the sound and pushed on.

“I lived on the streets for several years before he found me. Gabriel, he…he sought out people with abilities. He created a gang, and we would steal for him. Sometimes it was just information, sometimes it was physical objects. Occasionally we would rough people up. I was his Finder, and infinitely valuable to him.”

You took a deep breath. Pandora’s Box was open now, and you couldn’t bear to look at Bucky.

“He gave me a home. He gave me family and a sense of purpose. I…I didn’t understand what we were doing, and I didn’t really care. And after a while, when he started to ask more and more of me, he gave me drugs to enhance my powers. I don’t know what they were, but I became addicted to them. The drugs…when I was on them I wasn’t a Finder anymore. I was a Taker.

“He had me on a tight leash, and the few times I tried to go off on my own to score, he would beat me. Gabriel and I…we had a complex relationship. Or fucked up, I guess. He…he used me sexually, but I liked it. I felt needed. Wanted. I liked the drugs and the power, I liked seeing fear on the faces of our victims. I was a monster.”

You shook your head. “No, it’s worse than that. Gabriel worked for Hydra— _Hydra_ , Bucky. I worked for Hydra. All of us did. I…I didn’t know it at the time, but he was taunting me with it…after he took me.”

Your voice broke on the last word. Bucky reached out to you, but he pulled back as you continued, plowing through your painful past like a non-stop freight train.

“It all came to a head one night when we tried to steal some information from a high level member of SHIELD. Gabriel had dosed me up beforehand, and…it’s all kind of hazy, but it ended up with the SHIELD agent and his wife dead. Gabriel pulled the trigger, I know that, but I was standing right next to him. I didn’t stop it. I don’t know if I was just too high, or I just didn’t care…all I saw was their faces, and I snapped.”

You were starting to breathe hard now, remembering the confrontation.

“I…I tried to get the gun from him, and he went crazy. He shot a couple of my friends, members of the gang, but they weren’t really bad people, not really. Not like him. I just remember falling back, and he pointed the gun at me and pulled the trigger.”

You looked up at Bucky. He was staring at you, his mouth slightly open and as pale as death.

“Do you remember the prism thing from the tunnel? When the Hydra patrol came?”

He nodded, and somehow found his voice. “It’s called the mirror realm.”

You stared at him, but he shook his head, lightly touching your knee and indicating that you should continue. You were so afraid of what his reaction would be, but that simple act gave you hope.

“It’s happened before. I…I made it appear that night, and it saved us. A bunch of us were able to get away. Most of them fled, including Gabriel, but I turned myself in. I gave up Gabriel, the gang, everything. I told them _everything_ , although I don’t think they believed me on half of it. Gabriel got put away on my evidence and sentenced to life in prison. The last I heard, he died there.”

You sat back, your jaw working. “I got five years in a Federal Penitentiary, FCI Cumberland. I was out in two on good behavior.”

Bucky didn’t say anything, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him again. You felt like you were going to throw up.

“So there it is. I’m a criminal and a drug addict. A felon.” You shivered, hearing the words spill from your mouth. “Sam knows everything, it was a condition of my employment. I asked him not to tell you because I wanted to tell you myself, but…but I couldn’t. I’m a coward. I was too scared I would lose you.”

You closed your eyes and turned away. You felt so humiliated, wishing the earth would open up and swallow you whole. Bucky was silent, and you couldn’t bear to look at him.

“Come here.”

Strong arms wrapped themselves around you, drawing you into his lap. Bucky cocooned himself around you, cradling you tightly as if to protect you from every evil of the world.

Now the tears really came.

“Y/N, look at me,” he said gently after a while. “Look at me.”

Bloodshot, miserable eyes opened to look up at his stormy blue ones.

“I love you. _All of you_. And not despite your faults and your past, but _because_ of it. You are so strong, and you’ve gone through so much.” Bucky’s lips trembled, and he tucked your hair behind your ear. “But despite all of that, you think only of others. You’re still doubting yourself, when I see you for the beautiful woman that you are.”

You melted into his touch as he tenderly caressed your cheek. You felt so weak and pathetic, but right there, in his arms, you felt him lifting you up, holding you together as all the little pieces of you threatened to fall apart.

“You and I, we both have our darkness. Our demons. And I know they’re not the same, but in a way, they kinda are. Something we can’t escape. But maybe we can help each other.”

He pulled away from you slightly and held your hands in his, looking at you seriously.

“You say that you trust me,” Bucky said. “You’ve said that from the very beginning, but I think what you meant was that you trust _my_ past. Trust me in this, too. Trust me with _your_ past, and trust me to help you accept it. To help you live with it. Because I’m not leaving you. I love you, Y/N.”

Bucky leaned forward, hesitating slightly to gauge your reaction. When you didn’t stop him, he closed the distance, softly kissing you. Hands came up to cradle your face, one flesh and one metal. He took you by the shoulders, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss.

The loose collar of your shirt tugged down, and you saw Bucky’s eyes drift down as well. His jaw tightened. You followed his gaze, and you saw what he was looking at.

The Hydra symbol, burned into your flesh just below your collarbone. That hadn’t been part of your dream, either.

You tried to scoot away in panic, but he held you fast. “Y/N, it’s okay—it’s okay, just calm down.”

“Bucky—”

“That’s not who you are.”

He pulled the collar of your shirt down to expose the symbol. Bucky stared at it sadly for a moment before he bent down and gently kissed it.

“ _This_ is not who you are,” he repeated.

Slowly, gently, he kissed it again. Then he raised his metal hand and held it up to you.

“That symbol is not who you are, any more than this arm is what I am. We’ve both survived the darkness, and we’re stronger because of it.”

You released a shuddering breath. It was out there now, all of it. Bucky knew everything, and he still loved you.

“I’m stronger because of _you_ ,” you told him, kissing the palm of his metal hand. “I love you, Bucky.”

Something shifted in that moment. A tip of the scales between the two of you, or maybe, a balancing. All the little pieces clicking into place.

Bucky’s lips were hovering inches away from yours as if waiting for permission. You could feel each exhale, warm against your face. His chest rose and fell deeply as his hands tightened subconsciously around yours, his eyes blown black with desire. It was a look you’d seen before.

It was different this time, though, because for the first time in your life, someone actually wanted _you._ Not just to take something from you, but to make love to you. All this time, holding back. Afraid to hurt and to be hurt…but not anymore.

You let go.

You closed the distance, crawling forward and straddling him. Bucky’s eyes went wide as you wrapped your arms around him and pulled him into a deep kiss. His tongue flicked into your mouth, and he moaned as you rocked against him, the sound leaving you dizzy with want.

Bucky shifted his hips forward, and you could feel his arousal press against your core for one delicious moment before he slowly fell back against the sheets, taking you with him. Desperate mouths pressed together, both hungry, breathlessly panting as you pulled his shirt up and over his head, your own top following shortly after.

Skin against skin. Heat against heat, threatening to burn you alive. He was like the sun, always drawing you closer to him as he showered you with radiant light.

Your hands tugged at the band of his sweatpants, and he stopped you.

“Are…are you sure?”

Asking you. Waiting for your answer, his eyes cautious and concerned and hopeful. Needy.

“I’m sure…with you. I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”

Bucky huffed, and his fingers tangled in your hair. He was shaking.

“You’ll tell me to stop? You’ll tell me if I’m hurting you? It’s…it’s been a long, long time, not since—"

You silenced him with a kiss. “I’ll tell you, I promise. I want you, Bucky. I need…I need to feel you.”

Bucky was gentle. He was slow and sensitive to your needs, taking his time. Exploring you, finding all the little spots that made your toes curl and your pulse quicken, his hands and his tongue velvety soft against your skin and leaving you breathless.

He never stopped shaking, the anticipation and emotions reaching a fever pitch inside him that left him panting, his lips against yours as his heart thudded against your chest. Firm, unyielding muscles against your body, underneath your hands. A tiny whimper as he begged, needing more.

You both did.

When he entered you it was slow. Intimate. His eyes never left yours, and you watched as the black grew until there was only the tiniest ring of blue left. You pulled him close and his breath shuddered against your lips as he started to move, and you went with him.

The heat built slowly, excruciatingly. Bucky was everywhere. His touch, his taste, his scent—he filled you and completed you, every inch of himself bared to you. You murmured his name like a prayer and his breath hitched, the fire burning hotter.

You were gasping, moaning, eyes squeezing tightly shut as you reached the edge. Your head tilted back and Bucky buried his face in your neck, his fingers intertwining with yours as he pushed against you harder. You fell over the edge with a breathy sob, taking him with you a moment later.

Bucky cried out as he came undone inside you, his chest heaving and shuddering as he gasped for breath. For a moment he was still, and you both slowly came down together. He wasn’t shaking anymore.

Neither were you.

When he looked at you it was as if he was seeing you for the first time, and he was in awe. Blue eyes flicked between yours as he held you, cradling your face like you were the most precious thing in the world to him.

Your thumb grazed his bottom lip, running lightly over the dimple in his chin. You smiled in wonder.

“I…I didn’t know it could be…like that,” you said softly.

Bucky smiled back, sweetly. Innocently.

“I didn’t either,” he murmured. He blinked, and his smile widened. “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too.”

Bucky pulled you into his arms and you nestled against his chest. He stroked your hair and you murmured to each other, sweet nothings reserved for lovers. It wasn’t long, though, before the kissing started and the heat began to build again.

It was going to be a very long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of angst and a lot of sweetness and fluff after the last few chapters--it's been a doozy so far! 
> 
> Coming up, the cards are laid on the table, the Reader has her own personal "you're a wizard, Harry" moment, and Secretary Ross makes trouble for the Avengers.
> 
> Thank you for reading! I am attempting to post on a schedule now, it is my goal to update this fic every Saturday.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: Angst, Ross being a d*ck
> 
> Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Depression, PTSD, References to Drug use, References to Rape/NonCon, Angst, Fluff

Sam whistled a tune as he poured his coffee, happy for the first time in almost a week. He finally felt a little more in control of the situation he’d been placed in, and he felt like a load had been lifted from his shoulders.

Bucky and Y/N were home, safe and healthy again. They’d successfully tracked down Zemo and uncovered a tie to the Mystic Arts that, while confusing, had brought Dr. Stephen Strange on board, an ally he’d admittedly overlooked.

Sam frowned as he took a sip of his coffee. He was beginning to realize that one of Steve’s greatest mistakes had been trying to take on too much by himself. Sure, the man was a super soldier and he had been able to shoulder more than most, but in the end, it left him isolated and bitter. Sam had the suspicion that was the real reason he went back to Peggy—he was just tired. Tired of losing his friends, tired of shouldering the burden himself.

Well, Sam saw that, and he saw what it did to Steve’s friends that had been left behind. Steve’s decision had hurt him, but he understood it a little better now.

And he wasn’t going to make the same mistake.

Bringing Bucky further into the fold was the first step. The second was Strange. The Mystic Arts was still something Sam didn’t quite understand, but there was a power and knowledge there that would only help. They needed someone like that with the Avengers.

“Hey Sam, you ready? Everyone’s already in the conference room, we’re just waiting on Secretary Ross.”

“Thanks, Sharon,” he said.

He picked up the files from the counter and followed her. Today they were de-briefing Bucky and Y/N, and Secretary Ross and Commissioner Taylor from the NYPD would be there as well. In person. Apparently ID had been made on the bodies the team had discovered, and there were now links to a series of disappearances in the city. The commissioner was hot under the collar, and wanted answers—he hadn’t taken the discovery gracefully.

Well, that and the fact that Hydra had managed to infiltrate the subway tunnels right under his nose.

The only person who would be absent from today’s meeting was Strange. They’d all agreed it was best to keep that link to themselves until they understood it more—and Sam trusted Ross about as far as he could throw him.

Strange would be briefed later that day. The wizard also wanted to have a long talk with Y/N about her abilities, and Sam suspected he wanted to train her as well. He was glad—she seemed to be doing a lot better after her ordeal, but the girl needed some direction in her life. He had a feeling they’d only seen a fraction of what she could do.

Everyone was already seated when he arrived, and he smiled inwardly seeing Bucky and Y/N sitting together. Ever since arriving back at the Compound, they’d been fiercely protective of each other. He wasn’t sure what exactly had happened down in those tunnels, but the two were practically joined at the hip now. They couldn’t keep their hands off each other, and Sam had never seen either of them look happier.

_At least something good came of all of that._

Sam took his seat a few minutes before Ross and Taylor entered, flanked by the usual lackeys. A muscle in Bucky’s jaw immediately began to twitch, and Sam gave him a warning look. The two men had a history together, and now was _not_ the time for Bucky’s temper to rear its ugly head.

Sharon stood, greeting the two men.

“Thank you all for coming. I’m not going to waste everyone’s time here, a lot’s been uncovered the past few days, so let’s get down to it.”

She pulled up a three dimensional map of the NYC subway system. Superimposed underneath it was a newer map, one that had been made of the bootlegger and maintenance tunnels that ran between the abandoned lines. Sharon twisted her hands, bringing the map over the table for everyone to see.

_Gotta love Stark Technology._

“Five days ago, a team was sent to the abandoned warehouse next to the Brooklyn Navy yard, following a lead one of our agents discovered….”

As Sharon debriefed the group, Sam watched their faces. Bucky and Y/N listened passively—none of this was new to them. Her hand was held firmly in Bucky’s grasp, his thumb rubbing idly over her knuckles. Every so often, Sharon would say something that made her hand tighten. Their two-day struggle for survival had been harrowing, and Sam knew it still affected them both.

“…Sergeant Barnes and Agent Y/L/N discovered the Hydra Cell _here_ , and visual identification of Helmut Zemo was made…”

Now that was strange. Ross always looked annoyed whenever he had to deal with the Avengers, but today the man actually looked pissed. And why did he keep looking at Y/N and Bucky?

Sam watched the two men. Something was up. Ross definitely looked pissed, but he also looked…smug? The commissioner was upset too, but in contrast, he almost looked like he was going to throw up.

_What the hell is going on here?_

“Captain Wilson?”

Sam looked up. Sharon had finished her spiel, tactfully omitting the presence of the hooded men and the tie-in with the Mystic Arts. He cleared his throat.

“Thank you, Agent Carter. Miss Maximoff, can you brief the room on the Chitauri weaponry found at the scene?”

Wanda was another who had frequently found herself in Ross’s crosshairs, but the man barely paid her any attention as she spoke. Sam’s eyes narrowed. Uneasiness was starting to twist at his stomach, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“…further examination of the weaponry it being conducted as we speak in the Compound’s secure room by Dr. Banner.”

Sam nodded his thanks as she sat, and then he gestured to the Commissioner.

“Commissioner Taylor, you mentioned identification had been made on the bodies discovered at the scene?”

Taylor was a mouse of a man, and things began to click into place for Sam as Ross cut the Commissioner off.

“I’ll take it from here, Jim.”

Ross’s tone commanded the room, immediately setting everyone on edge. Sam didn’t like it one bit, but he held his tongue.

“We did make an ID, Captain Wilson, we did indeed.”

He nodded to one of his lackeys, and the images of nearly two dozen people filled the screen. Sam noticed that while most all of them had a large red “X” over the image, the top two were unmarked and darkened, obscuring the pictures.

Next to Bucky, Y/N stiffened, and all color left her face.

“The bodies found in the subway tunnel all belonged to enhanced individuals—former members of a gang that had harassed the city of Baltimore about ten years ago. Our coroner still hasn’t been able to determine the exact cause of death. He’s listing them as death under suspicious circumstances, but what is the _most_ suspicious about this is that it fits the pattern of mysterious deaths and disappearances that have been happening all over the city.”

He was pacing now. “Nearly four dozen people have been found in the last few months, just like the bodies here. We’ve looked into the history of this gang, and have found several links to Hydra, namely through its leader, Gabriel DeRocca.”

Ross nodded, and the two top pictures were uncovered. An audible gasp was heard around the room.

Gabriel and Y/N. Mug shots, taken at the time of their arrest nearly ten years ago. Sam looked over at Y/N, and she sat as if turned to stone, pale as death. Bucky didn’t look much better. Ross pointed up at the mug shots.

“Gabriel DeRocca. Sentenced to life in prison after the murder of a high-level SHIELD officer and his wife. The funny thing is, he managed to escape two years later, right around the time his little partner in crime was released from prison.” He smirked at Sam. “I assume you’re all familiar with the second picture.”

Sam spoke up. He had to stop this before it got any uglier. “Agent Y/L/N has been—"

Ross just bullied right over Sam. “Gabriel DeRocca and Y/N Y/L/N. One a known member of Hydra and escaped convict, and the other, a felon released on _good behavior_ …and now she’s an _Avenger_.”

Ross leaned on the table, staring daggers at Y/N and Bucky. Y/N didn’t flinch. She stared right back at him, her head high and face flushed. Bucky gripped her arm tightly, visibly bristling. The two looked poised for a fight.

“Drug addicts and felons. Murderers. Assassins. Captain Wilson, is this the kind of people I can expect to see you hire during your tenure?”

Sam struggled to maintain composure. “Who I hire is—”

“Bucky’s not a murderer—” Y/N started to stand, but Bucky held her back.

“He is, Miss Y/L/N, as are you. You both deserve to be rotting away in some federal penitentiary, not mouthing off to the Secretary of State.”

Ross pointed accusingly her as he leveled a stare at Sam. “How long has she been working for you? It’s just a little bit convenient that she’s the one to lead you straight to Hydra, isn’t it? And Zemo still got away? You’ve been blindly following her lead this entire time—How do you know she’s not _still_ working for Hydra—for DeRocca? It was well known she was his little whor—”

“If you want to leave this room alive, you won’t finish that sentence,” Bucky growled.

Now super soldier was on his feet, and Sam could hear the plates in the metal arm whirring in agitation. This was getting out of control.

“Secretary Ross, that’s enough.” Sam stood and glared at the man. “I’m not going to stand here and let you insult and accuse my friends and teammates. Sergeant Barnes and Agent Y/L/N nearly died on that mission, and because of them we now know Hydra has infiltrated the city. I would trust them with my life, and the lives of each person in this room.”

“A touching sentiment, Captain, but I’m afraid it’s not good enough.” Another nod, and this time the lackey opened the door to the conference room.

A dozen heavily armed SHIELD Agents entered the room, their weapons trained on the Avengers. Bucky pulled Y/N behind him, and Sam saw Wanda’s hands start to glow. He shook his head at her.

“Ross, what the hell—”

“Captain Wilson, the Avengers have officially been relieved of this investigation. I’m placing it under the command of Commissioner Taylor, as the scene of crime falls within his jurisdiction. As of now all new hires will be vetted by my office.”

Sam fumed. Taylor was little more than a puppet. “You can’t—”

“Actually, I can. The Accords placed control of Avengers under _my_ office. I’ve given you a lot of leeway, Captain…too much, it would seem.”

Ross looked over at Bucky and Y/N, and nodded. Two SHIELD Agents approached the pair.

“Sergeant Barnes, Miss Y/L/N, you are being detained until we can determine your level of involvement with these crimes.”

Sam surged forward as the SHEILD Agents brought out two pairs of cuffs. “You can’t take them, Ross, you have no right! You have no proof!”

Two more Agents held him back, one powering up a stun rod.

“I don’t need proof to detain them for the safety of the American people, Captain. I suggest you don’t interfere, unless you wish to join them.”

This could not be happening. This could _not_ be happening. Y/N was as white as a sheet, staring straight ahead in shock as her hands were pulled behind her back and the cuffs clicked shut. Bucky was shaking with rage, but he eyed the stun rod and complied. He’d never act out if there was a chance Y/N would get hurt. He looked over at Sam as his own cuffs were fastened, and the two men shared a look.

They both knew there was nothing they could do, not unless a lot of people got hurt. They were outnumbered, outgunned, and outmaneuvered. 

“Where are you taking them?” Sam’s mouth felt dry as he asked.

Ross looked at him smugly, and it took everything Sam had not to punch the man in the face.

“They’ll be held at a federal supermax downstate. Once they’re prepped, they’ll be transported to a secure holding facility for enhanced individuals. I’ll make sure my office keeps you informed.”

_Sure you will, you fucking asshole._

Sam grit his teeth. The Raft—that was where they were going. It was the only facility of that level, and one that Sam was intimately familiar with.

“Agent Carter, please give Commissioner Taylor everything you have on the case,” Ross said, as Bucky and Y/N were led from the room. “Captain, we’ll be in touch.”

Sam merely crossed his arms as the doors shut, leaving him alone with Wanda. He was still seething, but the wheels had already begun to turn.

“Someone needs to punch that man in the face,” she said, her eyes blazing. Then she caught the look on Sam’s face. “You’re already planning something, aren’t you?”

Sam nodded, his mouth a thin line. “Nobody walks into my house, insults me and my friends, and takes them away to that hellhole on some trumped-up ‘detainment’ charge.”

“So you agree—they’re going to the Raft?”

“Yeah, but they’re not gonna make it there,” he said, pulling out his phone. “I’ve got a loose plan, but first, we’re gonna need a wizard.”

Sam knew once he did this there was no going back. Fuck it, though—what was it Steve had said?

_“I’m not looking for forgiveness, and I’m way past asking for permission.”_

He smiled darkly at Wanda.

“Get the team together, we’ve got a prison break to plan.”

***

The sound of cuffs clicking home on your wrists was something you were all too familiar with. You knew what was about to happen, and you couldn’t do a thing to stop it.

They were going to take Bucky away. They were going to throw you into the deepest, darkest cell all alone, and this time, there _was_ no getting out.

_“Just you and me left of the old gang now, babe. The rest are all dead. I hunted down each and every one of those traitorous freaks…and we sucked them dry.”_

Gabriel had killed them—he’d killed them all. He and that horrible man with the dark, dead eyes. It was all true.

You felt the Hydra mark burning into your shoulder as the men led you and Bucky down the corridor, your coworkers and friends looking on in shock. You stared straight ahead, one foot in front of the other as you struggled to hold it together.

_Maybe this is what I deserve after all. I was Gabriel’s whore. I did those bad things, I did them. I might as well have killed those two people, I didn’t do a thing to stop it. I—_

“Y/N, look at me. Look at me!” Bucky twisted frantically against his captors, seeing you spiral out of control. “This is not your fault. It’s gonna be okay sweetheart, everything is—”

Bucky’s voice cut off, and he cried out as one of the Agents cruelly jabbed the stun rod into his lower back. He fell to his knees, gasping.

“Don’t!” he cried, seeing the Agent swing the stun rod as you moved to his defense.

“No talking,” the Agent said as Bucky struggled to his feet.

He was breathing hard, but he shook off the hit and kept walking. He twisted to look back at you. You were still glaring at the man who held the stun rod.

The doors opened, and there was the transport truck. You and Bucky were loaded into the back and restrained further as no less than eight armed guards climbed in after you. The door slammed shut and you flinched, your heartrate spiking.

You had to get yourself under control. If you lost it, Bucky was going to be the one who got hurt. Across the truck, Bucky stared at you sadly. His lips tightened.

The engine rumbled to life and you leaned your head back against the wall, retreating far within yourself as the truck pulled out of the Avengers Compound.

***

The limo followed the armored truck as it made a left, merging onto the interstate’s on-ramp that would take them back to the city. In the back seat, Secretary Thaddeus Ross sat back and congratulated himself on a job well done. This was merely the first step to ridding the world of those pesky Avengers once and for all.

The cell phone in his pocked vibrated. Seeing who the caller was, he sat up a little straighter, swiping up to accept the call.

“It’s done,” was all he said.

He listened for a long while as the car picked up speed. It was starting to rain.

“No,” he said. “The supermax is too conspicuous. Too many eyes. They’ll be held overnight and prepped for transportation to the Raft.”

More silence.

“Armored heavy truck by land, then by boat to the Raft…yes, a Coast Guard escort…won’t be a problem, I suggest you take them then…make it look like an accident.”

Ross nodded as he received final instructions.

“Understood. Hail Hydra.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Yay, prison break! Also, Ross is a d*ick and Sam finally grew a pair and stood up for himself! It’s taken so long to get to this point, but I’m excited to start to introduce more Strange into the fic. Coming up, a brilliant display of magic, evil plotting, and Bucky and Reader are moved to safety.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: Prison Scene/Prisoner Intake, Prison Break, Violence, Insults, Humiliation, People being a d*ck to Bucky, Anxiety, Fluff
> 
> Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Depression, PTSD, References to Drug use, References to Rape/NonCon, Angst, Fluff

**Southgate Supermax Federal Correction Facility – Pine Island, NY**

High atop the guard tower, two armed guards watched as the heavy truck pulled through the Main Gate and came to a stop. The new arrivals were highly anticipated, and all hands were on deck tonight to receive them.

The doors opened and a man and a woman stepped out, blinking under the harsh sodium lights. The woman didn’t look like much of a threat, but eyebrows were raised when they saw the man’s bulk and his metal arm. Just the look of him had the men down in the yard immediately on edge.

“At least they won’t be here long,” one of the guards said. “Outa here by tomorrow morning.”

“No shit?”

“Yeah. They’re just preppin’ them here. Coupl’a freaks headed for the Raft.”

“The big ‘fella looks like trouble, that’s for sure.”

The other man hummed in agreement as the prisoners were brought across the yard and through the double gate at gunpoint. The man kept looking back at the woman, and the guards saw the escort raise a stun baton threateningly. Electricity crackled.

“See? Trouble.”

“I heard they were with the Avengers. Connected with those murders down in the city.”

“Avengers.” The second guard shook his head. “Secretary Ross is right. They’re more trouble than they’re worth. They come along and all of a sudden we’ve got big green monsters, cyborgs and aliens, half of humanity being wiped out…and I don’t care much for that new guy they’ve got as _Captain America_.”

He said it with a sneer, and his partner laughed.

“Yeah, and remember that chick that can blow shit up just by lookin’ at it?” He shook his head. “I’m with you on that. I hope Ross wins—with him as President, those freaks’ll _all_ be headed to the Raft, right where they belong.”

They watched as the prisoners were led to the low grey building marked _Inmate In-Processing_. Then the door rattled shut, and there was nothing more to see.

***

The last time you saw Bucky was when you walked into the Processing Center. The guards pushed Bucky to the right, and you were led to the left. A flash of frantic blue eyes, and then he was gone.

Inmate In-Processing. Deja-vu all over again. You were stripped and searched, your teeth gritting as the (thankfully) female guard got up close and personal with her task. Then you were led to the showers, which were just as cold and harsh as you remembered.

Your skin still stinging, you were handed your prison jumpsuit. It was very similar to the one you used to wear— and just as scratchy—except it was blue instead of orange, and “NYDOC” was stenciled on the back instead of “MDDOC”.

Nothing ever changed.

From there you were led to medical for a brief and indifferent physical. The only highlight of that particular segment was when you were fitted with your collar. You weren’t sure what it was made of, but it looked nearly indestructible, and you were told it was set to deliver sixty thousand volts if you were feeling froggy.

You were not.

You observed the intake process with a detached interest. You supposed you were in shock, your brain just refusing to accept or act on anything more. In the last week, you’d been buried alive, discovered dead bodies, killed a man, nearly died yourself, come face-to-face with the terrors of your past, and confessed your love to Bucky. One brief and wonderful night together, and you’d promptly been arrested the next day.

Your heart just couldn’t handle anything else.

Bucky. You felt an emptiness, knowing he was so close to you, yet so far away. You worried how he was taking it, being imprisoned yet again. Branded the murderer and the traitor…yet again. You would give anything to see him, to hold him and make sure he was okay.

You focused on the thought of him, and that helped you get through the last of the intake process. You tried to stay strong—for him. Before you knew it you were being led down a long corridor, the jeers and catcalls of the other inmates nothing but rain on your skin. You were far, far away, laying curled in Bucky’s arms.

The sound of the cell door closing brought you back to yourself, though. It was a sound that couldn’t be equaled, one you’d hoped you would never hear again.

At least you had the cell to yourself.

You sat down on the thin mattress and closed your eyes, absorbing the unfortunately familiar sounds of the prison. Breathing deeply. You tried—you _really tried_ —to hold onto happy thoughts of Bucky, but knowing he was living through the same hell you were…

It didn’t work.

You curled up on the mattress, pulled your knees up to your chest, and finally let the tears fall.

***

“Y/N, wake up!”

“Whoa—what?!”

You were floating. Panicking, you spun in midair, throwing out your arms to catch yourself.

“Just relax, Y/N. You’re fine, remember? This is your astral form.”

You cursed as you continued to spin. “But I didn’t—"

“ _I did_. I thought it was time we met in person.”

The goateed man who spoke was also floating, cross-legged above the ground. His form was glowing, just like you were. It was just like in the tunnel.

“Who—”

“Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Doctor Stephen Strange, Master of the Mystic Arts.”

Your eyes narrowed. “I’ve seen you before.”

He nodded. “I’m the one who pulled you from the Dark Dimension where you were being held, and brought back into our realm. Away from Kaecilius…and Gabriel.”

“I remember…you saved me. Um…thank you.” You looked around, up at the trees surrounding the both of you. “Where are we right now?”

“Technically we’re in Pine Island, New York, about a quarter mile from the prison. More specifically, we’re in the astral dimension.”

You blinked, confused. “But I’m glowing…when I astral travel, I don’t glow. This is crazy.”

You couldn’t believe you were having this conversation right now. Righting yourself, you managed to control your descent to the ground—you really were astral traveling.

You surveyed Dr. Strange with a scowl. You weren’t quite sure how you felt about him just deciding to knock your astral form from your body—you’d had quite enough of that from Gabriel and Kaecilius. Yet here was the first person who seemed to truly understand what you could do. You decided to give him a chance.

“Go on.”

“You’re one of us, Y/N. You’re extremely gifted in the Mystic Arts. That’s why you can do the things that you can do.”

“Excuse me?”

Strange rolled his eyes. “You’re a wizard, Harry.”

You gaped at him.

He chuckled. “Sorry, just a little joke. We call ourselves the Masters of the Mystic Arts. You’ve been on your own for a long, long time, Y/N. It’s time you came home.”

Home? What was that? You didn’t know anymore, you only knew that the only home you recognized was Bucky. _He_ was your home.

You stepped back, shaking your head. “No. I’m not going to leave Bu—”

“You misunderstand. We’re taking you both. Somewhere safe, somewhere Zemo and Kaecilius and _Gabriel_ can’t hurt you.”

Sam had mentioned Dr. Strange as being an ally. He trusted Strange, and you trusted Sam. You decided to go along with it.

“You promise?”

“Yes. Although there are a few things we need to iron out. We’ve got a plan in place, Captain Wilson is coordinating the rescue efforts…but a lot of it depends on you.”

Despite yourself, you started to feel excitement well up inside you. You could maybe… _possibly_ escape. You and Bucky both.

“What do you need me to do?”

Strange explained the plan, and when he finished, even you had to admit it was brilliant. There was just one problem, though.

“I-I can’t do all of that, I’m not strong enough, I can’t control—”

Strange placed a hand on your arm, cutting you off. His expression softened. “You _are_ strong enough, and you will learn control. Where you’re going is a place of knowledge…a place of healing. It’s a place where you can be taught what you can find the answers you’ve been searching for your whole life.”

“With Bucky?”

“Bucky too,” he smiled. “I insist—I suspect we have some answers for him as well. But before we even get to that point, we’ve got to get you both out of here, and that is going to require some refinement of your skills.”

Strange stepped out into the glen, spreading his arms. “You may consider yourself my apprentice, Y/N, and this—”

He threw out his arms, sparks flying from his fingertips.

“—is lesson one.”

***

“Get up.”

Bucky glowered at the guard as he rapped on the cell door. Yet he sat up promptly, folding his hands benignly between his knees. He’d found out the hard way last night just how much punch the collar packed.

He hadn’t slept a wink last night. Honestly, he hadn’t even moved, other than to confirm the security of the cell. He just laid on his back and stared at the ceiling, drowning in his own head. Thinking nonstop about Y/N and all the ways he’d failed her so far.

Bucky felt like his spirit was breaking.

Behind bars again. Branded a murderous traitor _again_. Even worse—and perhaps the most horrifying thing of all—Y/N was here with him. Bucky knew how much her past haunted her, and he was terrified how this ordeal would affect her.

He’d seen the fear in her eyes. The panicked breaths, the trembling as the cuffs ratcheted shut. Her eyes were dead, glassy and distant. She had looked so utterly broken in the transport truck, it was all he could do not to go to her.

He was led through prisoner intake. It was nothing he hadn’t been through before, but his heart ached at the thought of her enduring the same humiliations.

_Y/N…Y/N, I’m so sorry. I didn’t see this coming. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you from this._

“Place your hands through the opening.”

A small grate in the door was slid aside, and Bucky complied. Vibranium cuffs were locked over his wrists. The door swung open to reveal no less than six armed guards and one SHIELD Agent, the same bastard that had shocked him last night. Twice.

The metal plates in Bucky’s arm whirred in agitation, and the man’s grin widened, seeing he was getting to Bucky. He raised the remote for the shock collar.

“Feelin’ squirrely this morning, freak? Go ahead, see how far you get.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched, and he said nothing. He let his gaze fall, picking out a point on the floor to stare at as they led him down the corridor.

“You know, if I had it my way, you’d be walkin’ your last steps to an execution chamber, not to some cushy prison. Some may call you a victim, but there are plenty more who know what you really are…murderer.”

The guy wouldn’t shut up. Bucky tried to let the insults wash over him—it wasn’t like he hadn’t heard them all before—but it was hard. He swallowed back bile at the thought of the same things being said to Y/N, and his worry increased. If she wasn’t already broken, that would do it.

_She’s strong. She’s the strongest person you know._

They turned the corner, and there she was. Bucky paused in shock and the guard jabbed him in the back, making him stumble forward a little. He barely got a look at her before they were both led out the doors towards the waiting transport truck.

She looked exhausted. Her eyes were downcast, dark circles standing out against the pale skin. He saw her again as they were loaded in the truck. Bucky tried as much as he dared to get her to look at him—anything, just so he could reassure her—but she wouldn’t meet his eye.

The back of the truck held two chambers. Bucky immediately recognized the design—they were identical to the containment unit that had housed him after the bombing in Berlin. He’d broken out of it before, but he hadn’t been wearing a shock collar, either.

All last night and all morning, he’d thought of ways to escape…and he’d come up with nothing. It would be one thing if it was just him, but he had Y/N to worry about. Security was so tight, he’d conceded to the fact that escape was impossible. Any attempt would likely just get them both killed.

They were well and truly fucked.

Y/N sat compliantly as the restraints were put in place and the door to the containment unit was locked. It was state-of-the-art and designed to withstand just about anything.

Six inches of bulletproof glass and titanium restraints, sealed and completely cut off from the outside world. They knew what Bucky was capable of, but they had no idea what her abilities were. So they were prepared for anything.

The truck rumbled to life, and the SHIELD Agent placed his palm on both access pads, locking each unit. Biometric security—great. A heads-up display blinked to life on the outside of the chambers, and Bucky saw it monitoring not only the security controls, but the prisoner’s telemetry as well.

Bucky stared at Y/N, willing her to look up at him. She sat as if turned to stone, staring listlessly at the floor.

_Please sweetheart, it’s gonna be okay. I’m gonna get you out—I don’t know how, but I’ll figure something out. I’m not going to let you suffer like this._

His heart was breaking. All the progress she’d made, everything they’d sacrificed for—it was all undone. Ross’s actions had truly shocked him. While it had been no secret that Ross hated the Avengers, the man’s actions clearly went overboard.

They drove on. Y/N continued to stare vacantly at the floor, and Bucky felt their speed increase as they merged onto the highway. He could see through to the front of the cab where the drivers were sitting. Everyone remained silent, alert, and watchful. Even the loud-mouthed SHIELD Agent had nothing to say.

Almost an hour had passed by his estimation, when Y/N finally looked up at him. Her eyes met his, and Bucky was shocked by what he saw there.

Excitement. Reassurance.

Determination.

Bucky felt a surge of adrenaline—something was about to happen.

Y/N sat up a little straighter and took several deep breaths. Then her eyes rolled back, and she was gone. Immediately, the telemetry on the heads-up display went crazy, warnings flashing as it showed her flatlining. The Agent leapt up.

“Jesus Christ, she’s coding—get that door open, now!”

All eyes were on Y/N. The guards were keeping their distance, their weapons raised as the Agent frantically unlocked her chamber. Bucky’s eyes were wide. He knew exactly what was happening—Y/N had astral traveled, knowing her hibernated state would set off the monitors and create a distraction.

Despite the excitement and fierce pride he felt, Bucky prayed that Sam or Strange had gotten to her somehow, and she wasn’t just recklessly acting alone. His heart was in his throat as he watched the scene unfold before him.

They had finally gotten the door open. The guard remotely unlocked her restraints, and the Agent caught Y/N’s body as it slid lifelessly to the floor.

***

Wong took a deep breath and stepped out onto the highway. Up ahead in the distance he saw the prison transport and the police escort, the flashing lights bouncing crazily off the trees in the dim morning light.

A rub of his sling ring for good luck, and he raised his hands as the sparks began to fly.

***

“No pulse—she’s not breathing!”

“What’s wrong with her?”

The Agent shoved the guard out of the way. “Hell if I know, but if either of ‘em dies, it’s my ass.”

It all happened so fast, Bucky barely had time to see it.

One second the Agent was leaning over her body and the next he was on the floor, holding his nose and howling in pain. Y/N rolled to her knees and snatched the guard’s stun baton from his limp grasp as he gaped at her. Bucky braced himself for another jolt from the collar, but to his surprise it released and fell harmlessly in his lap.

He hadn’t even seen her lift the remote from the Agent’s pocket.

Suddenly everyone was shouting. Y/N swung the baton back at its owner, dropping him instantly. Bucky screamed her name as he saw the guards draw down on her, their fingers tightening on the triggers. He threw himself against his restraints, trying to get to her…to protect her.

The bullets never came.

The truck gave a sickening lurch as the driver swerved violently. The guards went flying against the side of the truck. Y/N dropped to one knee and held up both hands, summoning the mirror realm as a protective cocoon around her and Bucky. The driver shouted in surprise.

“What the fuck is that?!”

Through the windshield, he saw a figure had step out onto the highway. A large circle of sparks appeared, and the drivers were helpless to act. The truck lurched again, and Bucky grit his teeth as he was thrown against his restraints.

Then the circle closed, swallowing the prison transport and its escort whole.

***

“Thirty seconds to mark,” Sam said, watching the countdown.

He was standing in a large, open meadow with Strange, Lucien, Wanda, and Sharon. At the ten second mark, he watched as Strange drew his hands apart, activating the Time Stone.

“Five…four…three…two…”

A large swirling ring appeared, and Sam instinctively took a step back as an armored truck and four police cruisers burst through, landing heavily in the grass. Tires spun and the vehicles barreled towards them at an impossible speed. Strange spun his hands, and their momentum stopped.

Everything stopped.

“Damn.”

The drivers of the cars were frozen in place—some of the vehicles didn’t even have all four tires on the ground. Each man’s face was locked in horror and disbelief, and Sam couldn’t help but let out a little chuckle.

“Strange, I’m glad you’re on our side.”

***

Bucky opened his eyes. He’d clenched them shut on reflex, convinced they’d been about to crash. Instead he saw Y/N, up on her feet and dragging the unconscious SHIELD Agent by the collar. She looked at him, a crooked grin on her face despite the concern for him that still colored her eyes.

“Y/N, what—”

“I’m so sorry Bucky, there was no way to tell you,” she said as she used the Agent’s fingerprints to bypass the security.

The chamber was unlocked, and the restraints fell away as she punched in the code. She flew into his arms. Bucky wrapped her in a bone-crushing hug, murmuring her name.

“Are you okay?” he whispered into her hair.

“I am now.”

She let out a long, shuddering breath. Neither of them were okay, he knew—far from it. But they would be, just as soon as they could both get clear of this. Bucky cradled her head against his chest, feeling like he could finally breathe again.

A loud banging on the door of the truck interrupted their reunion. Y/N pressed a hurried kiss to his lips, and then she was dragging him by the hand towards the rear door.

“C’mon—we’ve got to hurry!”

Bucky stared as they passed the frozen guards. “Y/N, how—”

“I’ll explain later, we’ve got to get this door open.”

They both reached up and pulled the latches, letting the heavy door swing open. Bucky jumped to the side as Wanda vaulted in, moving from man to man as she altered their memory of the past few minutes.

Y/N and Bucky hopped down, and Sam pulled them both in a tight hug. “You guys okay? You hurt?”

Bucky shook his head. “I think we’re okay…I’m a little confused, but what else is new?”

Sam laughed and started to speak, but Strange cut him off.

“I hate to break up your moment, but we’re on a tight schedule, here.”

Sam pulled them out of the way as Wanda hopped out of the back of the truck. Lucien stepped up and conjured another ring of sparks, and through this one Bucky could see the highway they’d just left.

Lucien swept the ring back across the motionless vehicles, seconds before Strange released the Time Stone. As the gateway closed, Bucky saw the truck rolling on as if nothing had happened.

Strange turned to them, a satisfied smirk on his face. “Well, that was entertaining.”

“Won’t they notice we’re gone?” Bucky asked.

“Wanda messed with their minds,” Sam explained. “They won’t remember the last ten minutes at all, and she implanted a hallucination that’ll convince them you’re both still sitting in lockdown.”

Y/N laughed. “Boy, are they in for a surprise when they get to the docks.”

“You were in on it the whole time?” Bucky was floored. “How?”

“Later,” Strange said, conjuring yet another gateway. “Let’s get you two to safety, first.”

Bucky’s head was reeling. He’d seen firsthand what the wizard was capable of, yet he never imagined…

Y/N took his hand, smiling up at him. She’d been amazing—he’d never been prouder of her. Their ordeal during the past twenty-four hours was still shadowing her eyes, but the smile she gave him filled him with warmth. He squeezed her hand as they walked up to the swirling portal, and they stepped through.

***

_“Protesters were out in force this afternoon, rallying under Secretary Ross’s new push against the Avengers and enhanced individuals._

_“In a surprise move as he looks to secure his bid for the White House, Ross has painted a new target on the Avengers, or rather, dredging up an old one—citing their dubious past and their recent mishandling of several high-profile cases._

_“Tensions were high today as Ross’s SHIELD Agents oversaw the transfer of two highly dangerous individuals with suspected involvement in nearly four-dozen murders in the tri-state area alone. James Buchanan Barnes, also known as the infamous Winter Soldier, and Y/N Y/L/N, a woman with known ties to Hydra, were scheduled for transfer to the Raft.”_

The news anchor paused for effect.

_“So it was with great surprise that the transport vehicle arrived completely empty…and none of the guards could explain just what had happened._

Footage rolled, showing the guards staring at the empty containment chambers in shock.

_“A nationwide manhunt for the two fugitives is currently underway. Both Secretary Ross and the new ‘Captain America’ Sam Wilson have declined comment. Barnes and Y/L/N are currently topping SHIELD’s Most Wanted list, and anyone with information is invited to call—”_

Helmut Zemo switched off the television. He was absolutely fuming.

“This would not have happened if you would have let me handle it as I wished,” Kaecilius said reproachfully.

“Secretary Ross—”

“—is a fool. He’s a pompous man with an axe to grind, one who fails to understand the complexities of the situation.”

Zemo rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly. “We need him. Soon we’ll have an army of Winter Soldiers at our beck and call, and with Ross as President, America will be ours for the taking. After that, the wo—”

“Yes, yes, the world.” Kaecilius waved his hand impatiently. “Forgive me, but a single world is but a speck in the larger picture I see.”

Gabriel sauntered up, lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag. “Looks like everybody here’s got their own agenda, huh? Ross wants the power, Zemo wants the world, Master Kaecilius—you _need_ the souls, and I…”

The dark eyed man stepped close, gazing down at his protégé. “Yes, Master Gabriel, even you. _You_ want the girl…for your own revenge.”

Kaecilius straightened. “Gabriel is right. We each have our own agendas, but if we work together, we might yet see them to fruition. Strange is involved now, and Ross is out of his depth. By now, Barnes and the girl have been moved to the Sanctum, and they are beyond our reach.”

“So what do we do?” Zemo asked.

“We regroup, and we plan. Leave Strange to me. I’ll get them away from him.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: **18+** Smut, Fluff
> 
> Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Depression, PTSD, References to Drug use, References to Rape/NonCon, Angst, Fluff

The Sanctum was a very interesting place.

You supposed that at one point, it would have amazed you. Astounded you. Everywhere you turned there was another trinket magically whirring to life, sparks spinning as people popped in and out of rooms, dusty leather tomes that looked older than time itself.

Then there were the people. You had gathered that there was nearly three dozen people living at the New York Sanctum, but those were only the ones you’d seen. People of all shapes, sizes, and nationalities, people from all walks of life. Gifted people. Masters, Apprentices, and Novices, like you.

_You’re a wizard, Harry…sorry, just a little joke we have._

A joke indeed. Strange was…well, the strangest of them all. Tall and imposing, but with a soft gaze that comforted and reassured. A gaze that held the answers you sought, but also one that told you he was not to be trifled with.

He gave you a set of white robes and a room and called you a novice. He said that Master Lucien or Master Wong would call upon you when it was time to begin your training, but for now, you were just supposed to rest.

He told you that you could do magic. Or, more specifically, manipulate the various planes of existence through space and time using your natural talents and the practiced dogma of the mystic arts.

Whew.

Yes, you supposed that at one point in your life, this all would have been very fantastic indeed. But right now, all you felt was numb.

You stood out on the balcony of your little room and tried to light a cigarette. The view out over Bleecker Street was nice, and the evening was cool and crisp. You were safe here, you knew that. The Sanctum was protected by an invisible bubble—a shield of the most powerful magic known to the Masters.

That still didn’t stop your hands from shaking.

They’d been shaking for hours. Ever since Strange had deposited you in your room and taken Bucky aside for a little “chat.” The weight of the past few weeks was weighing heavily on you, and although you knew you were safe, you felt an impossible void without Bucky standing next to you.

How pathetic.

You cursed loudly as you finally got the cigarette lit, slamming the lighter down in frustration.

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

Bucky was standing behind you. You hadn’t even heard him enter the room. You huffed a laugh.

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, Bucky…I think there’s a lot of things I don’t know about myself.”

Bucky hummed and stood next to you, resting his forearms against the railing. His shoulder and his hip brushed against yours, and you leaned into him. It felt nice. Bucky shook your cigarettes, deftly plucking one out and lighting it with a practiced motion.

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

Bucky blew out a long breath, rolling the cigarette between his fingers thoughtfully.

“Never used to. All the guys did down at the docks where I worked, but Stevie—even the smoke on my clothes would send his asthma into fits. I picked up the habit during the war, though. Smoked like a goddamn chimney. Only thing that would calm my nerves—that, or looking down the scope of my rifle. How fucked up is that?”

You shrugged. “Not very, considering.”

He chuckled. “Then, of course, after Hydra re-captured me…I never had the time nor the inclination for such…indulgences.”

“That’s a delicate way of putting it.”

Bucky nodded, growing serious. “But after the last couple weeks we had, I figured one wouldn’t hurt. My nerves feel shot to hell.” He eyed you sideways and bumped your shoulder affectionately. “How you holdin’ up?”

“I’m struggling,” you answered truthfully.

“Me too.”

“What did Strange want to talk to you about?”

Bucky shook his head. “It’s not important right now.” He tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, letting his fingers trail along your jaw. “What is important is that I’m here with you.”

Your eyes started to burn, and it wasn’t from the smoke. “I missed you Bucky. When they—when they took us away, that night…” you shook your head. “I was so scared. Being back in that place, knowing you were going through the same thing…a prisoner once again, it was…”

“Horrible.”

“…and Ross. The things he said…”

“They were brutal. I’ve been hearing people say those things about me ever since I got free of the programming. But to hear them said about you…I wanted to kill him.”

You looked over at him. “They weren’t lies though. What he said about me.”

Anger flared in Bucky’s eyes, but it was not directed at you. “Maybe some of them weren’t, but they didn’t need to be said like that.” He wrapped your hand tightly in his. “This darkness that’s inside us both—we can choose to let it destroy us, or we can use it. Temper it to make us stronger. These people can help us do that.”

“Is that what Strange talked to you about? Are you a novice too?”

Bucky laughed, the sound warm and lighthearted. “No. I don’t have a single drop of magical talent in me—that’s all you, sweetheart.” He looked at you, his eyes shining with wonder. “My god, you were incredible today. How you handled the guards and conjured up that glowy prism-thing—"

“The mirror realm.”

“Yeah, that thing. You’re going to do well here, you’re going to be amazing.”

You smiled. “You’re pretty amazing yourself, mister.”

You caught his chin and pulled him in for a kiss, sighing into his lips as they immediately parted for you. His tongue swept into your mouth, sending shivers down your spine that you could both feel. Reaching down, he gripped your thighs, lifting you and holding you tightly against his body as he carried you into the room, never pausing to unglue himself from your lips.

Bucky was wasting no time. He wanted you— _now_ —and by god did you want him, too. He bumped into the doorway, and you both laughed as he tried to navigate the unfamiliar room.

“See what you do to me, doll? I’m a stumbling mess around you.”

He laid you down on the bed, slotting himself between your knees, and he gasped as you raised your hips to grind against him.

“You’re gonna be a different kind of mess after I’m done with you,” you said, your eyes flashing darkly.

Bucky’s breath hitched, and for a moment he just stared at you. His gaze was so intense it felt like he was seeing right through to your soul. The heat that had been smoldering in your belly exploded into flame, and you both lunged towards each other at the same moment.

Clothes were stripped and hands pawed, grasping and needy. All pretense of coy foreplay was long gone. It felt as if there was something unearthly driving you, some instinctual need to be as close to one another as you possibly could.

“…need you,” he panted. “I need to feel you, I—”

He broke off with a whimper as he buried himself deep inside you, and you clutched at him as if he was the last thing tethering you to reality. You knew you were leaving marks, but Bucky didn’t seem to notice or care.

“Please,” you moaned. Bucky kissed you hard, gripping your hair and tilting your head back so he could lavish attention down your exposed throat.

He started to move, deep, long strokes as he pulled the sensitive skin of your neck between his teeth, sucking and biting along your pulse point. Marking you as well. You groaned as his pace began to increase.

“More.”

You felt like you were going to combust. The pleasure built so quickly and so intensely you could barely breathe. It was clawing and desperate and so much more than ordinary lovemaking. So much more than anything you’d shared with him before.

You cried out as you came, tumbling over the edge into oblivion as stars exploded behind your eyes. Bucky followed you a second later, and he clutched you to him so tightly it almost hurt. He collapsed against you, gasping for breath. Legs intertwined and you pulled him close, not willing to relinquish that skin to skin contact, your bodies slick and shining with afterglow.

“I love you,” you murmured. Bucky pressed soft kisses all over your face and neck, and you giggled as he nipped your shoulder playfully. His eyes were shining with adoration, and you couldn’t help but be buoyed up by the happiness you saw there.

“I love you too, Y/N. Every, last, inch of you.”

He punctuated those last words with more kisses, and drew you into his arms as he pulled the sheet over both your bodies. You were both still a little sweaty and the bed was a mess, but neither of you really cared at that point. You were both safe, and you were both together.

And that was all that really mattered.

***

Bucky smiled into the darkness, feeling the comforting weight of Y/N’s head on his chest and her naked body held tightly in his arms. He listened as her breathing evened out and she drifted off to sleep. He was tired too, but he knew sleep wouldn’t come for a while—his head was still spinning after everything Strange had told him.

He had been curious as to why the wizard would want to talk to him—alone. He stood in the center of the library, trying not to stare at all the distracting and fascinating artifacts around the room as Strange started to talk.

“I suppose you wonder why you’re here.”

“I’m at a bit of a loss, yeah. I’m not a—”

“I know you’re not,” Strange said with an impatient wave. “But you’re important to Y/N—actually, you’re essential to her.”

Bucky frowned, confused.

“You’re soulmates.”

Bucky laughed. That was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. “What, so the only reason I want to be with her is because some stupid magic thing says our souls are matched?”

Strange looked irritated. “No. You want to be with her because you _love_ her. Soulmates don’t always end up together.”

“How do you—”

“Because I didn’t end up with mine.”

Silence. Bucky really didn’t know how to respond to that, and he could tell he was treading on thin ice. Strange sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“Let me guess—when you first met her, you felt like something was drawing you to her. There’s a need to protect her, always. It burns in you, and you almost feel physically sick if she’s not around. She completes you in ways you never thought possible.”

“Well, yeah, but…it took us forever to get together. There was so much miscommunication, and we were so confused, it wasn’t true—”

“True love?” Strange barked a laugh. “Love may be true, but it’s rarely pretty. The fights, the confusion, the misunderstandings, the ups and downs— _that’s_ what makes it true. That’s what makes it strong.”

What Strange said sounded right. The man had summed up everything Bucky felt about Y/N, and how he suspected she felt about him. A small smile tugged at his lips.

Soulmates.

“It’s taken me so long to find her.”

“Some people never find theirs. Most don’t even have one. You two are very lucky.” Strange crossed his arms and leveled an appraising glance at Bucky. “Part of the reason you’re here is because she needs you, now more than ever. You need each other, especially with what’s to come.”

Bucky frowned. “What’s the other reason I’m here?”

“Because Kaecilius wants you. Not just Y/N—which makes sense—but you as well.”

“Why me?”

Strange took a step towards him. “Actually, I have a theory on that.”

Bucky started to speak, but all the breath was driven from his lungs as Strange hit him, hard, in the center of his chest. He felt himself falling backwards, but at the same time he felt himself standing on his own two feet in a strange doubling effect.

Bucky yelped as he watched his own body hit the floor, sprawled in a lifeless heap.

“What did you do to me?”

“Calm down. I just knocked your astral form from your body,” he said, nodding down at Bucky’s hand.

Bucky raised it. His hand was almost transparent, and it was glowing slightly.

_Just like Y/N when she astral travels._

“I thought so.” Strange looked at him, his eyes sparkling with vindication, and he nodded to Bucky’s right. “You’re astral form is also known as your soul. Or in your case… _souls_.”

Bucky turned his head to see what Strange was pointing at, and he nearly fainted.

The Winter Soldier was staring back at him.

Or, something that looked like the Winter Soldier, enough to send a thrill of terror through him. It looked like the Soldier, but instead of a bright glow, his form pulsed with a dark energy. Bucky gasped and took a stuttering step back. The Soldier didn’t move, he merely followed Bucky with his eyes.

“What the hell is going on here?”

Strange crouched next to the body on the floor and placed his hand lightly on the chest. Bucky heard a loud whooshing noise and felt an odd pulling sensation, and the next thing he knew he was lying flat on his back, blinking up at Strange.

Bucky scrabbled back and lurched to his feet, stumbling on shaky legs.

“You might want to sit down, it’s a little jarring the first time.”

“What did you do to me? What the hell was that?” He was starting to panic.

Two chairs appeared out of nowhere, and Strange gently pushed Bucky into one of them before sitting in the other. He let out a long sigh, and looked up at Bucky with a mixture of curiosity and regret.

“When Hydra did…whatever they did to you, they actually split your soul in two. Two halves, one light and one dark. One that retained all of your best qualities, everything good about you, and the other was—”

“Him.” Bucky’s voice was like ice. “The Soldier.”

“Yes. That’s why it always felt like you were a passenger in your own body— _because you were_.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched and the plates in his arm whirred. Strange continued.

“Kaecilius knows how to devour souls. To destroy them. And soon—if they haven’t already—they’ll have Arnim Zola’s knowledge, brought back into existence by the fragment of soul he left behind.”

Bucky felt like he was going to throw up.

Strange leaned forward. “I think Zemo wants to create more Winter Soldiers, only this time they truly will be perfect. Kaecilius will destroy the good half of the soul, leaving behind only the darkness. Complete and utter obedience, because every molecule of the former man will be erased. He wants _you_ so he can test his theory.”

Bucky stared at the floor. “Can’t you just…destroy the bad half? I’d do anything to be rid of him, once and for all.”

Strange shook his head. “Even if I could, I wouldn’t. Destroying a soul is dark magic, and it’s dangerous, even if the power is wielded with good intentions. What’s inside of you Bucky, the dark and the light, it’s what makes you who you are.

“We all have some darkness and some light inside us. Even me. Even Y/N. It’s how we use that duality that matters. We can let it destroy us, or we can let it make us stronger.”

He sat back and bridged his fingers, leveling a gaze at Bucky. “Both you and Y/N are good people, you just need a little guidance. We can help her harness her powers as she trains through the ranks of the Mystic Arts, but we can help you both accept the darkness inside of you and use it for good. You’re both here for protection, but you’re here for healing as well.”

In the tiny room on the third floor of the Sanctum, Bucky rolled over, pulling Y/N closer and nuzzling her hair. His eyes were starting to finally grow heavy.

Protection and healing. Accepting the darkness that lurked inside them both, haunting them. Silencing the demons once and for all, using them to become stronger, _to do good_. It was a lot to take in, but they had each other. The answers were there waiting for them, they only had to ask.

Bucky smiled softly as he closed his eyes, feeling the heat of her body pressed against his. He felt as he always felt around her—calm, warm, happy. Complete. And now he knew why. Bucky pressed one last, lingering kiss to her temple before he lay back against the pillow and joined her in sleep.

Y/N. His best gal, his lover.

His soulmate.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: Violence, Angst, Fluff
> 
> Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Depression, PTSD, References to Drug use, References to Rape/NonCon, Angst, Fluff

“While heroes like the Avengers protect the world from physical dangers, we sorcerers safeguard it against more mystical threats.”

Wong stood opposite you, manipulating a large revolving model of the earth high above the floor of the circular chamber.

“The mighty Agamotto was the father of the Mystic Arts. He built three Sanctums in places of power where great cities now stand. The Hong Kong Sanctum, the New York Sanctum, and the London Sanctum.”

Points on the globe began to illuminate over the three cities, complex geometric designs that grew larges, overlapping.

“Together, the Sanctums generate a protective shield around our world. The Sanctums protect the world, and we Sorcerers protect the Sanctums.”

Wong illuminated a single point on the globe, and lowered his hands. “Novices to the Mystic Arts are traditionally taught at the Kamar-Taj, but given your…unique circumstances, you will be taught here, where you can be protected. Master Lucian will hone your fighting skills, Master Strange will instruct you in the practical application of the Mystic Arts, and I…”

He pushed open a side door, and led you through it.

“…will guide your intellectual journey.”

It was a huge library. Floor to ceiling bookshelves full of dusty tomes in varying stages of deterioration. Wong looked over the room proudly before turning to face you.

“I am told that you are already quite advanced in the Arts, mostly self-taught. Is that correct?”

Despite his formal mannerisms, you liked Wong. Maybe it was his kind, bookish face and soft spoken voice, or maybe it was because you caught him singing along with Beyonce right before you knocked on his door for the lesson.

“Yes, Master Wong. My only teacher was…Gabriel.” It was still hard for you to even say his name.

Wong’s face softened. “Yes, I can imagine. Gabriel and Kaecilius draw their powers from the dark dimension, and while you have not shown any such traits,” he held up a hand to stifle your protest, “I suspect you may have a few bad habits we need to break.”

He tapped a large stack of books. “So, we shall begin at the beginning.”

Two hours later, you were struggling back to your room with an impossibly large stack of books. You were trying to balance the load and feel for the doorknob at the same time when the door suddenly swung open, and you practically fell into Bucky’s arms.

“Jesus, doll! A little light reading?” he smirked as he took the books from you.

“Homework from Wong. I think my eyeballs are gonna fall out.” You yawned and rubbed them tiredly. “I’m surprised you’re up, lazybones. You were curled up like a housecat and snoring when I left.”

Your tone was teasing, but you were glad Bucky was allowing himself to rest. You only wished you could’ve stayed in bed with him. The past few weeks had caught up to you both.

Bucky, it seemed, shared your thoughts. He kissed you, pulling you close. “Mmm, wish you were curled up with me, I missed you this morning. What time did you have to get up, anyway?”

“Five,” you groaned. “And I learned that although wizards are good at many things, making good coffee is not one of them.”

“Well, we’ll just have to remedy that. Give me a sec to change, and I’ll help you find some.”

You watched as he pulled on a pair of jeans and a tee shirt, biting your lip over the display of skin. Bucky blushed, and he cocked an eyebrow. “See anything you like, doll?”

“A whole lot…I’m just sorry there isn’t enough time to do anything about it.”

“Speaking of clothes,” he said with a mischievous grin, “I’m loving the wizard robes…they’re kinda sexy.”

“They’re itchy.”

“Well, I look forward to helping you out of them later.”

Bucky slowly drew his finger down your front, hooking into the folded vee of your robes and tugging you forward into a long, lingering kiss that left you breathless. He was still smiling as he pulled back.

“So…how about that coffee?”

You grumbled at him, something about starting something he’s not prepared to finish, but followed him out anyway. Bucky immediately took your hand, rubbing his thumb idly across your knuckles.

Bucky was different. He’d always been affectionate, but ever since his talk with Strange yesterday, he was even more so, always seeking out your touch, as if he needed to be physically connected with you. You certainly weren’t complaining—you loved it, but you were a little worried about him.

He looked at you differently now, almost as if he was afraid of something. You thought maybe it was just delayed trauma after everything that had happened, but that didn’t seem right.

“So, are you going to tell me what Strange wanted to talk to you about yesterday?”

You both had your coffees—fresh, but still not great—and were walking through the rooftop garden. Bucky took a calculated sip from his, rolling it around in his mouth as if he was choosing his words carefully.

“We talked about souls.”

“Souls?”

He nodded. “He explained to me that…that sometimes there’s a bond between two people…a link between souls. Not everybody feels it, and not everyone acts on it when they do, but when two people like that _are_ together, it…it makes them stronger.”

His hand tightened around yours, and you frowned. You felt like he was dancing around the subject, but what he was describing sounded like…

“A-Are you saying we’re soulmates?”

Bucky laughed self-consciously. He was blushing. “Yeah, um…I didn’t know how to say it without sounding ridiculous.”

“I don’t think it’s ridiculous.”

“You don’t?”

You pulled him to a stop and turned so he was facing you. “I think it explains a lot of things, like why I feel like I do when I’m with you. So protected and safe. And why you can tell when I’m sad or upset, and why it almost physically hurts to be separated from you. I don’t have a lot of experience with being loved, but I don’t think that it’s like this for most people.”

Bucky’s lips twitched, and his eyes were red. He pulled you close and cradled you like you were the most precious thing to him, which, you supposed, you were. He certainly was to you.

“Strange said that the next few months are going to be hard on you. I already know that you’re the strongest person I’ve ever met, but I’m here for you, Y/N. You’re my other half—lean on me as much as you need to. No more being stubborn.”

You smiled and kissed the dimple in his chin. “I will, I promise.”

You both turned and started to walk down the path again, but you pulled him to a stop. “Wait, so that was it? Why couldn’t he have just told me too?”

“Well…that wasn’t it,” Bucky said. “The other reason I’m here is for protection, and…Strange figured out why Zemo wants me.”

You listened as he told you about the split souls, and what Strange thought Zemo’s plan was for Bucky. You shivered when he described what the two soul halves looked like.

Bucky’s face twisted. “It terrified me. I don’t know why I thought he was gone. I…I guess when Shuri got rid of the trigger words, I thought she got rid of him too. Knowing he’s still there…”

Bucky didn’t have to finish, his mournful look said it all. He was afraid.

Now it was your turn to pull him close and wrap your arms around him. “It’s going to be okay, Bucky. At least we know now, and Strange can help you, right?”

He nodded. “He wants to start me with meditation, I’m going to meet with him later today. He said that once I’ve got that down, there’s different techniques that he can teach me that can help me control myself, and deal with some of the damage that’s been done.”

The look on his face said he was less than hopeful.

“Hey,” you said, tilting his chin so he would look at you. “Other half, right? I’m here for you to lean on, too. No hero bullshit.”

Lips twitched into a crooked smile, and he kissed your forehead.

“Deal.”

***

“All right, well, the first lesson was a resounding success, let’s talk about your _Finding_.”

“Is that really what it’s called?”

Strange chuckled. You were standing across from one another in a large room, protected by the mirror dimension he had cast on all sides.

Just in case.

“No. From what I understand of your _Finding_ , it’s actually a series of skills, of which you seem incredibly talented for someone untrained.”

“So everyone keeps telling me.”

He must have caught something in your look, because his face softened a bit. “You were used, Y/N. Misguided from the very start, told you were a freak and molded shamefully by a deeply disturbed individual for their own gain. None of that was your fault.”

Your face colored, but you said nothing. Strange nodded.

“Now. I know you can conjure the mirror dimension, and you’re quite skilled at astral traveling. What I want to talk about today is your ability to read touch memory.”

“Touch memory?”

Strange indicated a table in the corner, where a pencil and paper had already been laid out. As you sat down, he unclasped a worn wristwatch and set it in front of you.

“Show me what you can read from that.”

You didn’t even look at it, you just shut your eyes and opened your mind.

_“Billy, what’ve you got for me?”_

_“I’ve got a 35-year-old Air Force Colonel, crushed his lower spine in some kind of experimental armor. Mid-thoracic burst fracture.”_

_“Yeah, well, I could help…but so could fifty other people. Find me something worth my time.”_

_“I have a 68-year-old female with an advanced brain stem glioma.”_

_“Yeah, you want me to screw up my perfect record? Definitely not.”_

_“How about a 22-year-old female with an electronic implant in her brain to control schizophrenia…struck by lightning?”_

_“Mmm. That does sound interesting…can you send me the—”_

The vision abruptly cut off, and you looked down at what you’d drawn. It was a picture of the ruined interior of a wrecked sports car, broken glass littering the seat. A bruised and bloodied Strange was sitting in the driver’s seat, the broken watch strapped to his wrist in the foreground of the picture.

“More.” His voice was very quiet.

You took a deep breath, and opened your mind again.

_“Maybe it’s time to consider stopping.”_

_“No, now is exactly the time not to stop because, you see, I’m not getting any better!”_

_“But this isn’t medicine anymore. This is mania. Some things just can’t be fixed.”_

_“Life without my work…”_

_“Is still life. This isn’t the end. There are other things that can give your life meaning.”_

_“Like what, you?_

_“Now, this is the part where you apologize.”_

_“This is the part where you leave.”_

_“Fine. I can’t watch you do this to yourself anymore.”_

_“Oh, to difficult for you, is it?”_

_“Yes, it is. It breaks my heart to see you this way.”_

_“Don’t pity me.”_

_“I’m not pitying you.”_

_“Oh yeah? Then what are you doing here—bringing me cheese and wine like we’re old friends going for a picnic? We are not old friends, Christine, we were barely lovers. But you just love a sob story, don’t you? Is that what I am to you now? Poor Steven Strange, charity case. He finally needs me. Another dreg of humanity for you to work on. Patch him back up and send him back into the world, hearts just humming. You care so much, don’t you?”_

_“Goodbye, Steven.”_

You opened your eyes. The tearful face of a very beautiful woman looked back at you, standing opposite Strange. The watch was laying forgotten on the table beside them.

You flipped over the watch in your hand. There was an inscription.

_Time will tell how much I love you. –Christine_

You sighed and carefully laid the watch on the table. “I really wish people would stop giving me sentimental items to Find with.”

Strange looked shaken as he took the watch back. Somehow, you had a feeling that was an emotion he didn’t experience often.

“I-I’m sorry, I really don’t have any control over what I see, I know that was very personal—”

“I will teach you control.” He spoke softly, but gently. “This is a rare gift, reading touch memory. There are other ways we can expand it, perhaps, with certain relics.”

“Relics?”

“An object that is imbued with magical power, too strong for anyone to wield on their own. The relic chooses the Master.”

Strange was looking at you very carefully, as if he were actually seeing you for the first time.

“Can all of the wiz— _Masters_ —um, can they all Find like I can?”

“No.” He touched the medallion around his neck. “There are some Masters that show more aptitude at certain skills than others. With time, _perhaps_ , your skill can be honed and strengthened with a relic, but first…”

He tossed you a small bronze bar with two circles.

“…we need to get down the basics.”

***

Bucky leaned over the railing, watching Y/N spar with Master Lucian. The big German was tough. He was fast and agile, and he took exactly zero of her sass.

Bucky winced as Lucian caught her across the small of the back with his bow staff, and Y/N swore loudly.

“Move faster.”

She’d be hurting tonight. Bucky made a mental note to have a warm bath ready for her when she got back to the room.

“Move as if your life depended on it, _Mädchen_ , because one day it might.”

Bucky could see her jaw clench from where he was, and he knew she was starting to get mad. Y/N was a solid fighter, he’d seen to some of her initial training himself, but the way these guys fought was much more advanced than what was taught to the standard SHIELD recruit.

He watched with interest, recognizing several mixed martial arts moves, and a few even he was unfamiliar with. Lucian landed another blow, this time across the back of her knees, and she fell to the ground. Bucky’s protective instinct flared.

Maybe he might have to go a few rounds with this guy.

For training purposes, of course.

Y/N got right back up to her feet, and Bucky felt a surge of pride seeing her determination.

“You’re angry. There will be a time to use it to your advantage, but now is not one of those times. Clear your mind.”

He gave her a moment to center herself before launching himself at her. She blocked him once, twice, but ended up on her back in the end.

“Again.”

This time, she successfully blocked a volley of hits, even managing to land one of her own, although it was a glancing blow.

“Good.” Lucian tossed down his staff. “Time for something that requires a little more focus, I think.”

Bucky watched in amazement as he had her conjuring twin shields in under an hour.

He was so happy for her. Finally, she had some answers. A place where she belonged. A place where there were people who understood what she could do, and could help her mold that skill—to hone it.

“Your girl’s looking good down there.”

Bucky smiled and turned at the sound of the voice.

“Sam.”

“Hey, Buck,” he said, hugging him tightly. “How’re you guys doin? They treating you okay here?”

Bucky nodded to the sparring pair below. Now Lucian was attacking her with some kind of glowing whip, and she was fending off each blow beautifully with the conjured shields.

“They’ve certainly got a different way of going about things, but we’re good. Its’ quiet here. Peaceful.”

“Well, if there’s anyone that deserves a little peace and quiet, it’s you two.”

Sam stared at him for a long minute, his dark eyes warm with concern. The past few weeks had changed a lot between the two of them, going from begrudging partners to a brotherly friendship.

“How’s everything back home? Ross give you any trouble?”

“He tried, but they don’t have a thing that ties us to the prison break—and that pisses him off even more.” Sam’s lips twisted into a crooked grin. “Man, you shoulda seen his face. It’s like he knew, but he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.”

Bucky laughed. He already hated Ross, but the things he said to Y/N had made him see red.

“Just be careful Sam, I don’t trust him. He already showed he’s willing to abuse his power, to twist SHIELD for his own purposes.”

“I will. We’re still on the case—quietly. There haven’t been any new bodies pop up, so it looks like Zemo already has what he needs. It’s been quiet.”

They lapsed into silence, watching the pair fight down below. Bucky didn’t know whether to feel better or worse that Zemo had seemingly gone to ground.

He didn’t have much time to contemplate that though, because a Novice walked up and stood formally at his side.

“Sergeant Barnes? Master Strange is requesting your presence.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “You, too?”

“Meditation,” he answered. “Trying to un-fuck my head.”

“Good luck.” Sam clapped him on the back, and Bucky smiled. He turned and followed the Novice, eager to begin.

An hour later, Bucky wasn’t quite so sure. Meditation was hard, and Strange was getting a little frustrated. He was trying not to let it show, though, and Bucky was grateful.

“All right, lets try something different. You seem to have a hard time holding a state of reduced consciousness. Too many dark things seeping past the edges. It’s okay, I get that. So this time, I’ll give you a little push. I think once you’re there, it’ll be easier to hold.”

Bucky shifted on the cold stone floor. His ass had gone numb about thirty minutes ago.

“When you were the Winter Soldier, do you remember what that mental state felt like?”

Bucky paled slightly. “Blank, but…calculating. Always calculating. It was like…being bombarded constantly with input, but I was able to organize and manipulate the data to my advantage. It was blank, but noisy. All the time. There wasn’t anything else.”

Strange nodded. “I want you to go there, as close as you can. I’ll help remove the sensations.”

Bucky drew a shuddering breath, and closed his eyes. This kind of preparation was not unlike what he normally did before a big fight, and he wasn’t sure how this was supposed to be calming or help him in any way.

A few minutes passed, and he felt his voluntary thoughts cease. Then, all involuntary thoughts slipped away as well, the fleeting images that would pass across his mind, and he was left in darkness.

Well, not quite darkness. He could still see an overlap of the room. He knew it was twelve feet to the door, and sixteen to the window that was shuttered on the inside. He heard the drip of water from a cracked pipe in the ceiling, up and to his left. It was creating a puddle, approximately one foot in diameter, in the corner.

He felt Strange’s presence across from him. He could feel his body heat, and he could sense that he was still sitting, his breathing relaxed and body still. He could feel his own heartbeat, hovering around fifty BPM, and he lowered it further. Relaxed his limbs, letting the stiffness and the cold slide away the way he used to let the pain slide away.

Bucky was floating. He realized he couldn’t feel the floor underneath him anymore, and he blinked open his eyes.

“Strange, I don’t think this is wor—"

Bucky was alone. He was standing in unending darkness, illuminated by some unseen light. He turned around and was about to call out for Strange again, when he cut off with a choked gasp.

The Winter Soldier was standing behind him.

Bucky squared his shoulders, grimacing at his alter ego. “You don’t have power over me anymore. Shuri stopped you. I know you won’t hurt me.”

The Soldier, it seemed, had other ideas.

Bucky barely had time to leap out of the way as the knife flashed towards him. The Soldier never took his eyes off Bucky, glowering at him over the mask as he twisted and struck again.

“Stop! You’re not in control anymore!”

The figure didn’t listen. He kept pressing his assault, brutally quick and merciless as he pursued Bucky across the darkness.

_This isn’t real. This is a dream state, or something, I’m fighting myself. This isn’t real, this isn’t—_

It certainly felt real when the Soldier’s blade found its mark. Bucky cried out as it slid between his ribs, warmth and white hot pain immediately blooming in his chest. The Soldier grabbed the front of Bucky’s shirt and pulled him close, twisting the knife cruelly as he glared into his eyes.

Then the Soldier dissolved into nothing.

Bucky fell to his knees, gasping and holding his side. He pulled his hand away, expecting to see it covered in blood, but there was nothing.

It wasn’t real.

“Strange! Get me the hell outta here!”

Bucky had enough. He was shaking, and all he wanted was to feel his own two feet on the ground of the dank little room, and—

There was something over to his left.

It was a bar, an old wooden one. It looked like the bar in London that he’d visited with the Howling Commandos, back in 1944.

There was someone sitting at the bar.

“Steve?”

The figure turned and smiled.

“Hey, Buck.”

He was dressed in his Captain’s uniform, the olive drab making his blond hair shine. Bucky walked over and sat next to him, gripping the edge of the bar to stop his hands from shaking.

“Wh-where are we? What’s happening?”

“We’re in your own head, Buck. The wizards are good, but they’re not that good.”

“So you’re not real?”

Steve looked at him sadly. “I’m real enough, aren’t I?” He pushed a whiskey glass over to Bucky, his eyes never leaving his even as he took a drink from his own pint glass.

Bucky looked down at the amber liquid and took a hesitant sip. It burned going down, coating his tongue and warming him all the way down to his belly.

He decided that it was real enough after all.

Bucky took another drink and looked at his friend, his eyes starting to burn. Seeing him there like that, after everything, was making him incredibly emotional.

“Why’d you go, Steve. Why…why didn’t you come back?”

Steve didn’t say anything, he just looked at him sadly. Bucky felt a heat rise to his cheeks that had nothing to do with the liquor.

“You left me. After all that time, after everything we’ve been through and everything you did to save me, you just left me.”

“You didn’t need me—”

“I always needed you!” Bucky shouted. “I _always_ needed you, I still do. I was lost and alone, and you just—”

“You have friends. You have a lover.” Steve spoke softly, completely oblivious to how angry Bucky was getting. “You didn’t need saving anymore, Buck. You were home, and I had a chance to be with Peggy.”

“That’s a bullshit answer, and you know it,” Bucky growled. “What the hell happened to ‘Til the end of the line,’ huh? I guess that was just a bit too far for you. Got tired of cleaning up after your brain-scrambled friend.”

The anger was leaving him now, and he just felt miserable. Steve lightly put his arm around Bucky, and he didn’t even fight it.

“I made my decision, Buck. I didn’t say it was the right one, but it’s one I made for me. I was selfish, yes, but we all are sometimes. I know it hurt you, I knew it even at the end when you visited me in the hospital, and for that I’m sorry.”

“I miss you, Steve.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Bucky wiped at the tears that were gathered on his cheeks. “Don’t be, you punk. I g-get it, I really do. I guess I was being a little selfish wanting to keep you with me.”

“Are you happy now?”

“I am. The happiest I’ve ever been.” He huffed a smile and fiddled with his whiskey glass. “It’s been a long, strange trip that’s gotten me to where I am now, but I’m glad I’m here. I’m glad I have friends like Sam, and I’m glad that I found Y/N.”

Steve was right. It was all water under the bridge now, and as painful as some of it was, it was what led him to where he was now.

A thought suddenly occurred to Bucky, and he looked up at Steve with a frown.

“Is that why you didn’t find me, once you went back with Peggy?”

Steve looked down at the bar, his expression bleak. “It was the hardest thing I ever had to do, Buck, even harder than climbing back in that train after you fell. To just leave you there with Hydra, knowing what they were doing to you, knowing what you’d become…it haunted me. But it would’ve changed too many things, and I couldn’t risk making things worse.”

Bucky nodded. It was what he figured, anyway. “I hated you, you know. After.”

“I know. I’m sorry, Bucky. I truly am.”

“I don’t anymore.” Bucky sighed. “You had a good life, and I’m here now. I’ve found Y/N, and…I think we can have a good life too.”

Steve smiled and playfully ruffled Bucky’s hair, causing him to yelp and brush it back into place.

“You’re still a punk. You can cut your hair and get a flashy new arm, but you’re still that little punk from Brooklyn.”

Bucky laughed and shoved his shoulder. “Who you callin’ little, you jerk?”

He started to feel awareness creeping back. Bucky could feel the stone floor beneath him, and he could hear the drip, drip of the water from the cracked pipe. He looked at Steve.

“Is it time to go?”

Steve raised his pint. “Yeah, but I’ll always be right here, whenever you need me. I’ll see you around, Buck.”

He started to reply, but the bar dissolved into nothing. Bucky blinked his eyes open. He was sitting cross legged on the floor, and Strange was looking at him thoughtfully.

“What did you see?”

Bucky’s chest squeezed, the wave of emotion crashing over him. He sniffed and angrily wiped his face—Strange was waiting for an answer, and he was _not_ going to cry in front of him.

Bucky started to tell him about his encounter with Steve, but Strange impatiently waved him off. “Yes, yes, meditation is a useful tool to reconcile past emotional trauma. What else?”

“The Soldier. He was there, in the beginning. I told him he has no power anymore, but he fought me. He…he stabbed me, it would’ve been fatal if it was real.”

Strange hummed. “You’re fighting yourself, Sergeant Barnes. You always have been. The Soldier will always have power as long as you give it to him.”

“But I’m not. I don’t want to, I—”

“You’re afraid of him. You’re afraid of what he’ll do if he gets control again, and until you learn to control your fear, he’ll always win.” Strange stood and walked over to a large book that was laid out on the table. He paged through it thoughtfully.

“Why can’t we just destroy him?”

“I already told you we can’t. Not only would it take dark magic, but living with half a soul is no life at all.” Strange straightened. “There are ways, though…techniques that we can use once you’ve mastered your fear, to help you control him. To make him work for you.”

He looked over a Bucky. “Think of it as placing yourself as his handler, in a sense.”

Bucky walked back to the room numbly. The encounter with the Soldier left him reeling, but the conversation with Steve had emotionally drained him. Still, he felt better about how that particular relationship had ended than he had in a long, long time.

Y/N was hunched at the desk, so deep in her studies that she didn’t even hear him come in. She smiled tiredly as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head—she looked as battered as he felt.

Bucky took her hand and slowly closed the book, pulling her to her feet.

“Long day? You look tired,” she said as she kissed his jaw.

“Yeah, but I’ve got just the thing.”

She cocked an eyebrow as he pulled her into the bathroom, and started filling the tub. He hummed as he slowly undid her robes, pushing the heavy fabric to the floor. The rest of her clothes soon followed, and Bucky bit his lip in anticipation as he grazed his fingers over her exposed skin.

He initially intended to draw the bath just for her, but she pulled him towards it, making short work of his clothes. She slotted herself between his legs and laid back against his chest, sighing as he slouched them both down in the warm water.

“I could get used to this,” she sighed.

The sigh turned into a gasp as Bucky let his fingers explore, her back arching against him. He nuzzled her cheek, whispering against her soft skin.

“Me too.”

***

Zemo stood with arms crossed, watching the two chanting figures in front of him. His eyes glittered with maniacal hunger.

_So close…so close to completing this first, crucial step._

Kaecilius and Gabriel’s faces glowed with the energy they were drawing from the dark dimension. The process of transferring Arnim Zola’s soul fragment into a new body had been laborious and dangerous. They’d already accidentally killed the first two acolytes Kaecilius had chosen, and Zemo was starting to get nervous.

Finally, they stepped back. The figure on the table sat up and looked dazedly around him.

“Well I will say, it took you long enough. What year is it?”

It was strange, hearing the man speak with Arnim Zola’s voice. Zemo told him the year, and the Acolyte hopped down off the table, stretching his limbs.

“Captain America and Sergeant Barnes? What became of them?”

“Steve Rogers is dead. We are working on obtaining the Asset once again.”

The Acolyte looked at him sharply. “We will need to find another way to control the Asset this time. The serum is of little use to us without the control.”

“Do not worry about that, Doctor Zola.” Kaecilius said. “We have that well in hand.”

The smaller man licked his lips excitedly. “So, you’ve found it then? A way to destroy the second soul?”

“How do you think we brought you back?”

“Very good. _Very_ good,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “I assume you want me to replicate my original serum…how much will you need?”

“As much as you can make, Doctor,” Zemo said. “The Avengers’ time is over. Hydra is in position to take control of the US, and, in time, the rest of the world. All we need is the army. An army of perfect soldiers.”

The Acolyte chuckled darkly. “And perfect they truly will be, this time. I assume you will test your theory on Sergeant Barnes first? I should very much like to see him again, he was magnificent, for all the trouble he caused.”

“He won’t be causin’ trouble much longer,” Gabriel drawled.

Zemo led the Acolyte along the tunnel to the segment they’d set aside as the lab. Since Barnes and that meddlesome girl had found their original lair the trio had retreated deeper into the tunnels, using one of the old, abandoned platforms as their new base of operations. Kaecilius had cast wards and protective spells around the platform, ensuring Zemo that the girl would not be able to find them this time.

“So will you be able to do it? Recreate the serum?”

“It will not be a problem. It is simple enough, but time consuming,” the Acolyte said dismissively with a wave of his hand. He began to peruse the lab equipment appraisingly, then nodded in satisfaction. “Of course, I will need a test subject.”

“We already have one?”

“Who?”

Zemo smiled darkly. “Me.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: Fluff
> 
> Series Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Depression, PTSD, References to Drug use, References to Rape/NonCon, Angst, Fluff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I missed the update last week, so this one is a day early. Enjoy!

**Two months later**

To say spending Christmas with wizards was weird would be an understatement.

Not surprisingly, Strange wasn’t a big fan of the holiday, and Lucian, well, the old grump was completely devoid of any festive cheer. Astonishingly it was Wong who was the most active celebrant, and it was he who helped you with your little surprise for Bucky.

This would be the first Christmas you spent with someone you really cared about. Christmas, to you, had always been another depressing holiday, another reminder of the family you didn’t have. Just another way to rub in how depressingly messed up your life was.

But now you had Bucky.

“You gonna tell me what’s goin’ on, doll?”

“Nope, it’s a surprise.”

It was Christmas Eve. After a rather ho hum meal—turns out wizards weren’t the best cooks, either—the two of you were headed back to your shared room for the night.

Bucky had been shooting you amusedly curious glances all day. He knew you were up to something, because you were far quieter than you’d been in a while. _And_ you were spending an inordinate amount of time with Wong.

He wasn’t worried though—quite the opposite. He thought it was cute, how hard you were trying to keep a secret from him, to plan something special.

You’d really come out of your shell in the past month. Your strength and fearlessness had always been apparent to Bucky even if it hadn’t been to you, but your self-confidence had blossomed. He attributed it to having a stable, caring family environment, but you…you attributed it to him.

Bucky was your life. Your world. You’d never felt this depth of love for anyone before, and although it still wouldn’t do it justice, you wanted to show him that tonight.

You pulled him to a halt outside the room and made him close his eyes. For good measure, you poked your finger at his face, and he flinched.

“Are you peeking?”

“Nooo…super soldier, remember? I can sense it when you move like that towards my face, you dork.”

You stuck out your tongue, but he didn’t react. “You’re a dork.”

Bucky chuckled. “Are you gonna show me your surprise, or what?”

“Okay, okay. Here,” you said, taking his hands. The slow smile that spread across his face was completely devoid of sarcasm, and he let himself be led forward.

You guided him into the center of the room, and then released him. Muttering the incantation Wong had taught you under your breath, you moved your hands around the room until you were pleased with your work.

“Okay, open them.”

Bucky did, and he gasped in surprise.

The night sky sparkled above him, as brilliant as any he’d ever seen. The edge of the Milky Way was even visible. It wasn’t a static display but a moving, living thing, as rich and as endless as the heavens themselves.

He looked down, and saw that a light spectral dusting had been draped over everything, glittering like snowy diamonds. And there, in the corner of the room, was a small Christmas tree, twinkling softly.

It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“You…you did this? F-For me?”

“Always.”

Bucky ran his finger across the bookshelf, but it passed right through the conjured specks of light. It was an illusion, but it didn’t diminish the beauty or sentiment, because it was _you_. It was your creation, all for him.

You watched as he slowly spun, taking it all in, his face lit up like a child. Then he caught sight of what was under the Christmas tree, and he paused, his face going blank.

It was a small package, wrapped in red paper with a bright green bow. His name was on it.

You looked up at him, and your breath caught when you saw the tears falling down his cheeks. He looked upset.

“Bucky? Bucky, oh my god, I’m so sorry—are you okay?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he turned and swept you into a bone-crushing embrace that startled you with its ferocity, even as you felt his tears slide into your hair.

“No, no no, it’s…it’s wonderful, Y/N. It really is, it’s just…I’m…”

He gave a nervous little laugh and released his hold a bit, but he didn’t let you go completely. Bucky looked at you, his eyes red rimmed and his jaw working. Then he looked back at the little tree and shook his head.

“1941. That was the last real Christmas I had. It was with Steve, I had him over at my folk’s house. We had turkey and a tree and presents, and...and we even went sledding with my sisters like we were little kids again.”

He laughed a little, remembering, and then his expression darkened a bit.

“After that, there was the war and…and Hydra…and then I was on the run.” He tenderly brushed his fingers down your cheek. “I’ve been running ever since. Never had a chance to stop and catch my breath, not ‘til you.”

Soft lips brushed against yours in a kiss that was both sweet and eager. Breathing heavily, he pulled back slightly, and your heart ached seeing the beauty of the twinkling lights reflected in his eyes.

“This is amazing,” he said, looking around the room. “ _You’re_ amazing. Only one thing missing, though—”

“What?”

Bucky pecked a kiss to the corner of your mouth and darted over to the bed, peeling up the edge of the mattress and retrieving a small, wrapped box. He placed it under the tree with a wink.

“There. Now, it’s perfect. Come here.”

He pulled you into his arms, laying back against the bed so you both see the conjured night sky.

“How did you do this? It looks so real.”

You laughed. “That’s because it is. It’s the sky above the Aoraki Mackenzie Dark Sky Reserve in New Zealand. Wong showed me how to conjure it, he said it’s his favorite place to stargaze.”

Bucky hummed and pulled you closer. “Well, it’s the second-most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

You frowned, and he laughed, his nose scrunching up as he kissed your temple. “The first is you, doll.”

“You’re impossible,” you said as you rolled your eyes to hide the deep blush that rose to your cheeks. “Smooth talker—Is that how you got all the ladies back in the day, Sergeant Barnes?”

“I’m a little out of practice, it sounded better in my head.”

“It sounded pretty good to me, too.”

“Yeah? You think I got a shot?”

You grinned and rolled on top of him. “Play your cards right, and you might just get lucky tonight, mister.”

Bucky growled and nipped your collarbone, and you giggled. He sighed happily and fell back against the bed, pulling you close as he pointed up at the slowly revolving night sky, naming the different constellations and planets that were visible. You curled onto his chest and he idly brushed up and down your arm, the vibrations from his voice beneath your ear almost hypnotic.

“This is really amazing, Y/N. It’s in New Zealand, you say?”

“Yeah. I’d love to see it in person. I’d love to see it with you.”

The corners of his lips tugged up into a touched smile. “Yeah? You’d want to go there…together?”

Even after all this time, he doubted himself.

“What they’ve taught me here…I can go anywhere. I can see anything, anything in this world or the worlds beyond ours. And I want to—with you. None of this matters without you, Bucky.”

Your smile slipped, and you looked at him soberly. “It scares me…if you and Sam hadn’t walked into the bar that night, if you hadn’t stumbled into my room that first time I was astral projecting…it scares me to think of how different my life would be without you.”

“Hey,” he said, catching your chin between his thumb and forefinger, “soulmates, remember? All this time, the long journey we’ve both had…it all led to each other in the end. And here we are.”

Bucky tilted your head up so he could kiss you again, and he smiled against your lips.

“Present time, I get to go first.”

He jumped up and grabbed the smaller package from under the tree. He looked adorably nervous, biting his lip and scrubbing a hand through his hair as you opened it.

“It’s uh, it’s not much…kinda hard when we’re on lockdown here, but…”

Your mouth fell open as you lifted the top of the box. Inside was a replica of the dog tags Bucky wore. Then you heard a clinking sound as Bucky pulled his own tags out from under his shirt, and you exhaled sharply, feeling your eyes start to burn.

It wasn’t just a replica of Bucky’s dog tag, it _was_ his dog tag. He’d given you the second one, the one that was there in case anything happened to him.

“S-Some of the guys, when they got home and didn’t have to wear ‘em anymore…they still chose to. Kind of like a comfort thing, you know? But they’d…they’d give the second one to their girl, and…I don’t know…I always thought that it was a…a really…”

You cupped his face in your hands and kissed him, long and hard enough to sooth his nerves. “I think it’s incredibly romantic, Bucky. I love it.”

“You do?”

“Two halves of a whole. Of course I do, it’s perfect.”

Bucky smiled crookedly as his face flushed prettily. “I love you, Y/N. I never thought I could be this happy—I never thought I deserved it. Your trust and your kindness, from that first, _awful_ day in your room…I knew right then how special you were. You understand me so completely, you just…you’ve taken all my pain and darkness and you just…”

He laughed softly and looked up at the stars overhead. “…you just turn it into starlight.”

_Oh, Bucky._

He leaned forward, kissing the few stray tears off your cheeks as he whispered in your ear, “Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

The flush was still in his cheeks when he began to slowly unwrap his present, the size and shape making it obvious what it was—a book. Bucky peeled away the last of the paper, and just sat there, holding it in his hands and staring at the cover.

 _From the Earth to the Moon_ , by Jules Verne.

And not just any copy, _your_ copy. The one he’d seen you reading on the plane that took them to London, and the one he’d been paging through on the floor of the hotel. He’d dropped it like he’d been burned, thinking you would be upset, but you just laughed and told him to share the bed—there was no way you were going to make him sleep on the floor.

Bucky’s eyes unfocused. That was the first night he’d slept next to you, the first time he’d started to realize what he felt for you ran deeper than he was prepared to admit. He remembered those nights he’d spent cuddled on the couch with you, watching science fiction movies or the memorable night when he first kissed you.

He remembered talking about astronomy and engineering as the two of you limped through the tunnels underneath the city, and later, how he’d read to you from that very book as you both lay together, recovering from your ordeal.

Bucky let out a shuddering breath as he opened the front cover. He meant to keep paging through, letting the memories play through, but his hand stilled once he saw the inscription.

_“It is better for us to see the destination we wish to reach, than the point of departure.”_

_Verne’s words, but you taught me their meaning. I love you so very much, Bucky, Merry Christmas._

And then, in a very faded and slightly water-stained ink:

_I love you to the moon and back my darling._

_Love, Mom._

It was your mother’s copy, the one she’d given you on your fifth birthday. Far above your reading level, but that summer you’d been a sponge for anything to do with space exploration, and you’d loved it. It was your most prized possession and the only thing you had left of her, and Bucky knew it.

“Y/N…Y/N, I…I don’t know what to say,” he said thickly. His jaw was trembling.

Gently you closed the book, laying your hand over his on the cover. “I want you to have it, Bucky. I’ve read the words a hundred times, but they didn’t have meaning until you. I love you Bucky, from the earth to the moon.”

In any other setting it would have been corny, but neither of you laughed. Instead, Bucky huffed and pulled you into a kiss, blinking back tears.

“I love it, Y/N, thank you.”

“Just promise me you’ll still read to me from time to time.”

“I’ll read to you whenever you want, Y/N. Anything, for you.”

Gifts were laid aside and bodies intertwined, soft murmurs and tender caresses beneath the conjured, starry sky.

***

Sam groaned. “Bucky and Y/N think they have it bad, this is like being on house arrest with an angry mob at your front door.”

He wasn’t kidding. There’d been protesters at the front gate of the Avengers Compound ever since Secretary Ross had started his push for the White House, making his ostracization of the superheroes the cornerstone of his campaign. With the body count that had piled up in New York City that Ross had conveniently tied to the Avengers and their speckled past, Sam had to admit—it didn’t look good for them.

“I’d take freaky wizards any day over that crowd out there,” Sharon said dryly. “Ugh! I just wanna—”

She didn’t finish her sentence, though. She knew just as well as Sam did that it wasn’t the fault of the crowd. They were being fed false information and stoked into a frenzy by a man who had grown from annoying thorn in Sam’s side to a serious fucking problem.

“Any news from our guy on the inside?” he asked.

“Not per say, Ross is playing his cards very close to his vest. He did, however, swipe this from Ross’ office.”

She held up a watch. Rolex, by the look of it.

“You stole his watch?”

“Nooo, our guy did. Honestly, do you think Ross would let me within a hundred yards of his office? I may still be SHIELD, but my name’s as black as yours, I assure you.”

“Unbelievable. I’ve stooped to thievery.”

“Ross wants to play dirty, so will we.” She twirled the band around her finger. “So, you think Y/N can find out what he’s up to with this?”

For two long months, Sam had been conducting his own investigation on the sly, an investigation that had come up annoyingly short. Not a peep from Zemo, the strange disappearances and deaths seemed to have stopped, and besides his very public admonishment of the Avengers, even Ross had basically let them alone.

SHIELD couldn’t be trusted…again. But Sharon still had a few solid people hidden in the ranks that she could call on, and Sam had been waiting for something like this.

Bucky had brought him up-to-speed on Y/N’s training and Strange’s theories about Zemo’s next move. The thought of a reincarnated Zola and split souls had his head spinning—he felt like he’d constantly been behind the eight ball on this since day one.

They had to catch a break sometime, and this might just be it. As long as Bucky and Y/N were safe at the Sanctum Sanctorum they held a strong defense against Zemo until he decided to make a move. Which just left Ross, and what the hell his grand scheme in all of this was. Sam didn’t know why, but it felt like it was all connected somehow.

He took the watch from Sharon and turned it over thoughtfully.

“She’s done a lot more with a lot less, so yeah—it’s worth a shot. I’ll give Strange a call.”


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: Graphic Nightmare, Blood and Gore, Anxiety, Fluff
> 
> Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Depression, PTSD, References to Drug use, References to Rape/NonCon, Angst, Fluff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is a little late and I apologize, this weeks been kind of crazy.

You pushed the drawings away from you and laid the pencil down. Your hands were shaking.

Ross was dirty.

He was working with Zemo. With Kaecilius and Gabriel.

He had been, the entire time.

The room was utterly silent as the weight of your touch-memories sunk in and everyone realized their implications. Ross was a shoo-in for the next presidential election, and he’d been gaining ground with staggering ease since waging his war on enhanced individuals.

“Are you okay?”

Bucky’s hands lightly covered yours, stilling the tremors. You looked at him, and could see he was just as shaken as you were. Neither of you had forgotten your recent encounter with the Secretary, or the treatment you’d received at the hands of SHIELD.

“I’m alright, it’s just…”

“It’s a lot,” Sharon said. Her jaw was clenched. “And the worst part is that even though we know this is true, it’s still not evidence.”

All of you turned and looked at Sam. He’d been quiet, staring at the floor with his arms crossed against his chest, deep in thought.

“I’m not surprised.” He shook his head. “Ross has always hated us, and he’s always been power hungry. Sharon’s right—we’re forewarned now, but this still isn’t evidence.”

“So what do we do?” Bucky asked.

Sam looked between you and Bucky, his eyes lingering on your hand still securely wrapped in Bucky’s. “We keep digging, but quietly. Ross still doesn’t know where the two of you are, and we need to keep it that way.”

Bucky nodded in agreeance, but you noticed a tightening in his jaw that betrayed his stress. So you weren’t all that surprised when he told you that he needed to speak with Strange, and that he’d catch up with you later.

Ignoring the guilty twinge in your stomach, you hovered just outside the door and listened. Any composure Bucky had kept during the Finding was gone now.

“Don’t lie to me, Strange.” He barely growled the words.

“I’m not.”

“How safe is this place, really?”

“Sergeant Barnes, the Sanctum—”

“I’m good at reading people, and I know there’s something your not telling us. I’m gonna ask you again—how safe is Y/N here?”

A sigh. “The sanctum is safe.” A pause as Bucky sputtered indignantly. “… _but_ , there is a possibility that Kaecilius could break through our wards and spells.”

“How?” Bucky’s voice was flat and cold.

“In order to break out of the Dark Dimension where I trapped him, he’d have to have made a pact with a demon, possibly even Dormammu himself.”

“Dorm—”

“Doesn’t matter.” A long pause. “Kaecilius has always walked a dark path, but now, he may have access to magic that could potentially break through our wards. And if he’s seen fit to train Gabriel in the same manner…”

“Eavesdropping on the Master’s private conversation, are we?”

The voice made you jump. Master Lucian was standing right behind you, and he did _not_ look happy. You started to stammer out an apology, why to him you weren’t quite sure, but he merely cocked an eyebrow.

“You’re late for your lesson.”

***

“How you holdin’ up?”

Sam sidled up next to Bucky, who was leaning his forearms against the balcony railing and staring morosely down at the scene in the courtyard below. Y/N was in the middle of her lesson with Lucian, although this looked more like a fight to the death rather than a sparring session.

“I’m fine. Why?”

Sam looked over at him. “You’re all dark and moody again. You’re quiet.”

“I’m always moody.”

“Not lately. You’ve been lit up like the sun ever since you got here.”

Bucky sighed and scrubbed his face. “It’s this thing with Ross. Not surprising, I know, but…the last few months have been some of the best of my life, and it was easy to forget the danger. That’s not like me. And I guess that scares me.”

“You’re afraid of letting your guard down.” Sam shook his head. He’d seen it first-hand with his groups down at the VA—the hypervigilance, the anxiety, and the guilt when the former soldiers found themselves finally letting their guard down. The fear. He saw that now, in Bucky, and the latest development with Ross hadn’t helped.

“I can’t protect her if I do.”

Down in the courtyard, Lucian had knocked Y/N back again. She was out of breath and bleeding from a split lip, looking visibly pissed.

“You’re holding back, _Mädchen._ You’re afraid.”

Her fists clenched. “I’m not—”

“You are. You’re afraid of your anger and pain. Afraid if you let go you’ll succumb to the darkness inside you. Don’t be.”

He circled her, taking light jabs at her with his staff.

“Use it.” A swipe at her knees, which she nimbly dodged.

“Harness it.” Another jab at her shoulder.

“Make it your strength, not your weakness. We all have darkness in our souls, girl, and we can either control it, or let it control us. Now…”

Lucian leveled his staff at her.

“…conjure a weapon.”

Up until now, she’d been on the defense. Y/N released her shield, straightened her shoulders, and drew her hands together, conjuring twin curved blades Bucky recognized as shortened khopesh swords. They were a good fit for her, and apparently the Master agreed, because his eyebrow raised in approval.

Next to him, Sam stared raptly as the pair fought, the glowing blades spinning through the air and meeting the staff blow for blow. Still, the Master started to push his apprentice back again.

“Come on!” Lucian roared. “What are you so afraid of?!”

It was like a switch had been flipped. Something snapped within her—Bucky saw it. Maybe she was just mad enough, maybe the Master’s words had gotten to her, but at that moment, Y/N let go of her fear.

Spells were used in harmony with her attacks, teleporting her from one side to the other as she dodged his swing. She circled her hands, physically altering space and time and moving the walls of the courtyard to box him in.

Lucian grinned. His boots sparked, and he vaulted from one wall to the next, changing the landscape yet again as the pair fought on.

“Jesus Christ.” Sam’s mouth hung open, and Bucky watched with unbridled pride. She was incredible. Graceful and deadly, it was like watching a rare butterfly take flight for the first time in a whirl of sparks and fire.

The session ended with Lucian on the floor, staring up at Y/N’s curved blades and grinning broadly.

Sam stood, shaking his head as he clapped a hand on Bucky’s shoulder.

“I’d say your girl can take care of herself.”

***

You moaned obscenely. Bucky’s hands felt positively sinful as he worked the tension from the muscles in your back, and he laughed softly.

“Feel good, doll?”

“You have no idea what you’re doing to me.” Another groan. “Okay, maybe you do.”

“You’re pretty sore, huh?”

“Lucian’s like, twice my size, and he hits like a freight train.”

“Yet you still knocked him on his ass. Even got a smile out of the old grump.”

“I know,” you said in amazement. You were still reeling from the earlier lesson—you’d never felt that kind of power before. Still, you remained respectfully wary of it.

Bucky lapsed into silence, and you knew something was bothering him. You caught his hand and turned.

“You okay? You’ve been kinda quiet since the Finding this morning.”

He sighed heavily. “Yeah, it’s just Ross…it pisses me off, and it scares me that it happened again—Hydra getting to someone that powerful. It’s like Pierce all over again.”

He fiddled with the blanket, not meeting your eye. “I never told you, but it was Ross who tried to take me to trial. After Wakanda, after Thanos, after _everything_ …he still tried. He was pushing for the death penalty. Said I needed to be held responsible for my crimes as the Winter Soldier.”

“Bucky, that’s—”

“I know, I know,” he said catching your hands and soothing you before you could say anything. “It’s not my fault, I know that now. It’s just…this is a lot bigger than the two of us. It’s not something I can fight head on.”

“We.” You tightened your fingers around his, interlacing them. “ _We_ will fight it together. You, me, Sam—all of us. Ross isn’t going to win, and neither is Zemo.”

Bucky smiled at the fierceness of your words. Then, his smile faded.

“I know. And we will fight, side by side. But…I talked to Sam today, and we spoke with King T’Challa. If it gets too dangerous here, if Ross gains control of the US, if the Sanctum isn’t safe anymore…I want you to go to Wakanda. Other than here, it’s the safest place I know.”

You. Not we. Bucky was afraid for you, and you recalled his earlier conversation with Strange.

“I’m not going without you.”

“You might have to.”

“Don’t.” You clenched your jaw. “Don’t say that. Don’t make contingencies for something that hasn’t happened. There is no scenario where one of us leaves the other behind. I can fight.”

“I know you can, it’s just—”

“It’s going to be okay, Bucky. _We’re_ going to be okay.”

You could tell he was unconvinced, but he allowed you to pull him into your arms, and he dropped the subject.

Still, even as your eyes grew heavy, even as you lay wrapped protectively in his arms, you could feel the low undercurrent of anxiety coursing through him.

***

Moonlight filter through the window, splashing across the bed and illuminating the two figures laying there, side by side in a restless sleep. They lay flat on their backs, twitching and panting, deep in the throes of a shared nightmare.

_Blood. There was so much of it, spreading in a widening circle around her body as he cradled her in his arms, frantically trying to put pressure on her wound. It pooled around the intricate dagger lying on the dirty floor._

_Her throat worked and she clutched at him, mouthing his name._

_“D-Don’t try to talk, sweetheart, it’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna be—”_

_Boots scrabbled in the dirt, writhing. A tremor wracked her body._

_“…Bucky…”_

_Gurgling, gasping. Trying to hold on for him as her vision narrowed and the cold set in. Bucky sobbed, pressing harder against the wound as her life seeped through his fingers._

_“Just stay with me, sweetheart, please…please stay…please don’t leave me...”_

_The tears fell harder now. She was dying, and they both knew it. Her eyes were dark embers, boring into him as she desperately tried to tell him she loved him one last time. Bucky clutched her tightly as if he could hold in her life with his bare hands._

_Her eyes locked with his as her body went rigid, and the strength ran out of her like water._

_“No! Stay—stay here with me, please—”_

_His voice caught in his throat, and he watched the light leave her eyes._

“No!”

The cry was strangled, ripped from his throat. Bucky bolted upright, his chest heaving as he stared wildly. He looked down at his hands. They were sweaty and shaking, but they were unstained. There was no blood, no dagger, and Y/N—

She was next to him. Unharmed and sitting up, her face pale and eyes wide. Frightened, but alive.

Bucky moaned and pulled her into his arms, burying his face in her neck and murmuring her name as he breathed her in. He could feel her heart pounding wildly against his chest, matching the frantic tempo of his own. She shuddered, and he sobbed.

She was alive. It hadn’t been real.

Bucky cupped her face and pressed a wet, desperate kiss to her lips. He was still shaking, and felt like he was on the verge of passing out. It had felt so real. Y/N let out a shaky breath and gingerly touched the spot on her chest where the dagger had pierced.

“It wasn’t real.”

Bucky stared. “Wait—you dreamed the same thing?”

“I don’t think it was a dream. It…it felt different. Like when I Find. Like I was there, but not there.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, I’m not making sense.”

“No, no—I felt it too.” Bucky worriedly brushed her hair back, caressing her cheek. “We need to tell Strange. Something’s not right.”

She exhaled sharply. “I know.”

Y/N leaned into him, kissing him softly. Reassuring him.

“I love you, Bucky. I’m—I’m okay.”

“It wasn’t real, I know.” He sighed, pressing his forehead to hers. “I love you so much, I just…I can’t lose you, Y/N.”

“You won’t,” she promised. “We’ll talk to Strange and figure out what the hell this was.”

***

As it turned out, even Strange was stumped. He listened intently as you both recounted the shared nightmare, and the only sign he was listening was the deepening crease in his brow.

It had started off in the midst of a pitched battle. You both had seen several Masters and Avengers taking on Hydra Agents and Acolytes, although the location was unknown to you both. Bucky had been fighting Zemo, the pair locked in combat, when Gabriel had gotten the upper hand, his blade plunging into the center of your chest.

You’d felt it. You could still feel it if you concentrated, and the dark soulmark on your collarbone burned viciously.

Bucky was still visibly shaken. He was very pale, and he kept looking at you like he was afraid you would just fade away. You didn’t blame him. You had felt the life leave your body, and the effect was very unsettling.

You gripped his hand. Now, more than ever, you felt the need to be close to him.

Strange sat back, stroking his goatee thoughtfully after you’d finished recounting the dream. 

“And it was exactly the same? You both saw and felt the same thing?”

Bucky nodded.

“It could be a premonition,” Wong said. Of course, he’d raided the library and was currently paging through several dusty tomes.

“A premonition?” you asked. Bucky gripped your hand tighter.

Strange steepled his fingers, looking unconvinced. “There have been accounts of soulmates having premonitions when their partner’s life is in danger, but…they usually aren’t shared.”

“If they were touching, she could have been unconsciously drawing the dream from him.” Wong offered.

“That’s absurd,” Lucian scoffed. “That spell’s complex—it can’t just be done in your sleep.”

None of the Masters’ conjectures made you or Bucky feel any better. Lucian and Wong argued the point back and forth until Strange held up his hand.

“Regardless of if this was a premonition or dream, shared or not, we need to treat it as a warning. It’s time to take the next step.”

“Go on the offensive?” Lucian sounded hopeful.

“Yes.”

Bucky frowned. “Why now? We’ve just been sitting here these last few months, we could’ve been going after Zemo then.”

“We were waiting.”

“For what?”

“For our Finder to learn to harness the Mystic Arts. And based on your performance today, Y/N I’d say your ready to take the next step.”

***

You sat cross-legged on the floor, fingering the Artifact that Strange had given you. It was very unassuming—a pair of leather cuffs, markings tooled into their surface and bound with braided strips, crisscrossing to loop around a brass medallion, a replica of the Sanctum’s oculus.

“The _Bracelets of Aspectu_ ,” Strange said as he pulled them from a glass case. “Latin for ‘seeing.’ The Mystic Arts haven’t seen a true Finder in centuries—the last person to wear these was a Sorcerer Supreme—don’t let it go to your head.”

As always, you couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.

“These will enhance your natural ability, but it takes great strength to wield them.”

“How do I…how do they work?” you asked as he helped you fasten them on your wrists.

“You’ll see.”

As cryptic as ever.

“See if you can Find Zemo.”

The room was utterly silent. Bucky sat against the wall with Wong and Lucian, and his eyes widened slightly at Strange’s request.

“But I don’t have anything to Find with.”

“You don’t need it. _You_ are the vessel—center yourself. Open your eye and Find that which you seek.”

You looked at Bucky. His lips crooked up into a smile, and he nodded. He believed in you. It was time to believe in yourself.

You closed your eyes. Grounding yourself in the feel of the stone floor beneath you as you breathed deeply. A sense of calm washed over you, and you relaxed further, lowering your heartrate and letting it all fall away until it felt like you were floating.

Then, you opened your Inner Eye.

A collective gasp was heard around the room as light flowed from you, twisting and turning into an intricate, glittering web.

A map.

It spun, changing shape as you hunted for your quarry.

You sensed dirt. Closeness. A claustrophobia almost…not unlike the tunnels beneath New York that you and Bucky were both intimately familiar with.

Water dripping.

The map rotated. Expanding.

The rattle of the subway overhead. Ancient brick and decaying grandeur.

They were in the tunnels.

Bucky stared. Your eyes were open and unseeing, all attention turned towards you Inner Eye as you sought out Zemo. Beautiful and terrifying, lit from within as you unfurled your wings and came into your power.

There. A small, dark, pulsating mass. A rot. An abscess to be cut out, a concentration of evil so intense it turned your stomach.

Kaecilius.

You sensed him there, along with Gabriel and Zemo. Unconsciously, your lips drew up in a snarl as you magnified their location.

“They’re at Track 61. The Astor Platform.”

Strange raised his head. Bucky blanched.

“You saw them there?” he asked.

“I felt them. They’re there, all right—Zemo, Kaecilius, and Gabriel.”

Sam raised his eyebrows. “What—am I the only one who has no clue what she’s talking about?”

“Track 61 is an old subway line that ran under the Waldorf-Astoria.” Bucky answered grimly. “There’s a secret platform that was built there so celebrities and dignitaries could enter the hotel unnoticed. Franklin D. Roosevelt used it frequently. It’s been condemned, no one’s been down there in years.”

“Someone’s there now,” you said.

Strange had been silent up until this point, but now he spoke. “This shared dream you both had. You said there was dirt and an old cobblestone floor.”

Your stomach dropped. “Yes.”

“Was it what you just saw?”

Bucky was staring at you intently, and the look on his face broke your heart. He knew, just as well as you did.

“Yes.”

Strange nodded. He was silent for a moment, considering, and then he drew up, raising his chin as if he’d just come to a decision.

“We attack.” Lucian and Wong both voiced their agreeance, but Strange held up his hand. “But the two of you must stay here. If what you both shared was a premonition, there’s no way I can let you come with us, Y/N. You’ll stay here with Bucky and Lucian.”

The fact that he used Bucky’s nickname and failed to mention Lucian’s title did not go unnoticed by you. Strange was unsettled, and that worried you most of all.

Bucky gripped your hand tightly.

“We’ll protect her.”

“It’s not just her—remember, they want you, too.”

You and Bucky shared a worried glance, and he drew you into his arms. He lightly kissed the top of your head as Strange turned to Sam.

“Captain, we’re going to need as many people as you can spare.”

“On it,” Sam said. His face was set. “We’ll be there, just name the time.”

As they went over the details of the attack, you leaned into Bucky, drawing comfort from the strength of his embrace. Your dark soulmark had been burning since the nightmare had woken you, and you rubbed at it now.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

“Yeah. Just…promise you won’t leave me, even if you think it’s the right thing to do. Even if you think you’re saving me. Just promise you won’t leave.”

His eyes flicked back and forth between yours.

“Please,” you said. “I can’t handle the thought of being separated from you…of…of something happening to—"

Bucky silenced you with a kiss, one that curled your toes and completely shattered the feeling of dread that had heavily lodged itself in your throat.

“I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

Bucky wrapped his arms around you and rested his chin on your head as Sam and Strange finished up their plans for the attack. You knew he was chafing at the inactivity, wanting to seek out those who’d do you both harm rather than sit idly by.

Still, you knew the memories of that shared nightmare, the one that left you dying in his arms, played heavily upon his mind. It was something you had trouble shaking yourself, and you could only imagine how he felt.

You both watched quietly as Strange and Sam made their plans, and you chose to ignore the pit of warning that was developing in your stomach, reminding yourself that both you and Bucky would be safe at the Sanctum.

***

Kaecilius paused, his hand hovering over the dark mark on Gabriel’s shoulder.

“Did they buy it?” the younger man asked.

“I believe they did.” Kaecilius straightened. “When you first professed your interest in the girl, I admit I was hesitant, but she’s grown quite strong.”

“She’s a regular little hellcat, all right.”

Zemo stepped up. He cared little for the girl, his only interest was in re-obtaining Barnes, the troublesome soldier who’d foiled his earlier plans so completely.

“And Barnes? He’ll be there?”

Kaecilius’ lips twisted into a semblance of a smile. “He loves her. He won’t let her out of his sight. He’ll be there.”

Zemo nodded in approval and turned. He walked down the tunnel, kicking at the debris of a long-lost gilded age. Rat infested settees, dingy chandeliers…even a baby grand piano. A worn and faded sign, pointing bygone travelers towards the hotel lobby several levels above them.

Not unlike Hydra, he realized. Diminished, tattered around the edges, but still there. Still alive. A few more moves across the board and Hydra would be restored to its former glory, with none other than Bucky Barnes as the unwilling accomplice.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: Cannon Typical Violence

“Wish I was comin’ with you.”

Bucky grasped Sam’s hand and pulled him into a tight hug.

And he did. As much as he wanted to stay and protect Y/N, as much as he _needed_ to be with her, he hated the thought of a fight being waged on his behalf. Of his friends risking their lives for him.

“I know.” Sam didn’t try to pep him up or sugar-coat the issue, and Bucky liked him all the more for it.

Suddenly, he grinned. “Hell, you’ve earned it—hundred year-old man and all…it’s about time you get to stay at home and protect the damsel in distress.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “She ain’t no damsel, and as you pointed out, she can handle herself.”

“We’re gonna be fine, Buck.”

It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t a guarantee, either, and they both knew it.

With a final squeeze of Sam’s hand, Bucky stepped back, instinctively looking for Y/N and drawing his arm tightly around her shoulders.

The invasion force was assembled in the courtyard of the Sanctum. Sam, Wanda, and Sharon, along with a few dozen trusted SHIELD agents stood beside Strange and Wong. Nearly a hundred Masters and Apprentices backed them, the full strength of the three Sanctums and the Kamar-Taj rallying behind the Master of the New York Sanctum.

With a nod, the three Sanctum Masters raised their sling rings and opened a portal to Track 61, several hundred feet from the Astor Platform.

Bucky felt Y/N grip his hand and he squeezed back, grounding himself in her presence.

Sam shot a cocky grin back at them and stepped through the portal, and within minutes, they were gone.

***

Something was wrong. Sam felt it as soon as they burst onto the Astor Platform.

Zemo was ready for them.

They were already assembled and waiting for the Avengers on the platform.

“Captain America.”

A figure strode to the forefront, dressed in a long, furred trench coat and a purple mask.

“You are the new Captain America, I presume. You hold his shield, you wear the uniform…although it is not quite the same, I think.” The figure laughed darkly. “How very changeable of you. How _American_.”

Sam bristled. He could’ve given a big speech about how wrong Zemo was, about the strength of the American spirit and the tenacity of the Avengers, but he didn’t.

“Man, shut up.”

“I agree, Helmut…that is enough talk for now.”

Another figure strode into view, settling into a fighting stance across from Strange.

“Kaecilius.”

If a name could be a curse, then one had just passed through Strange’s lips. Kaecilius cocked his head.

“Don’t you ever tire of being wrong, Strange?”

“I’m never wrong.”

“You tried to be rid of me once…what makes you think I’ll disappear as easily?”

Something twisted in the pit of Sam’s stomach. Something was off.

“Strange…where’s Gabriel?”

Sam knew he wasn’t there. Now that he thought about it, it felt more like walking into an ambush than an invasion against an enemy stronghold. Too many people were missing.

Zemo’s grin widened.

“He’s taking care of a little errand for us. Don’t worry…we’ve got you well in hand.”

The tension tightened to the point of cracking, and then it imploded.

Zemo launched himself at Sam the same moment as Kaecilius tangled with Strange, and the pair disappeared. Sam shouted at Sharon to look out, but it was unnecessary—she’d already drawn down on the Hydra Agents, firing at them as Wanda flared.

“Sharon!”

“Little busy, Sam!”

“It’s a trap—Gabriel’s at the Sanctum, he’s gonna—”

_Wham!_

Stars exploded behind his eyes, and he dropped to his knees, not quite passing out, but almost. Sam had been so focused on what was possibly unfolding back at the Sanctum, that he’d forgotten about the fight at hand. Until Zemo hit him, the blow feeling similar to getting hit by a truck.

Or a super soldier.

Boots swam into view as Zemo circled him, taunting. “Get up, Captain America—I expected better from you. Although, perhaps it wasn’t fair of me. You see, I’ve changed too.”

Pieces fell into place. Hydra had the serum, and Zemo had injected himself with it.

Sam got to his feet, squaring his shoulders and facing Zemo dead on. He’s going to have to hope that Bucky and Y/N can hold their own against whatever is coming for them at the Sanctum, because this is one fight that’s not going to be over quickly.

***

Waiting was nearly unbearable.

You sat in the courtyard, feeling utterly useless. The dirt shifted underfoot as you bounced your leg restlessly—it was the only way you could dispel the nervous energy that was bubbling over.

Bucky had left a couple minutes ago, saying he’d be right back, but it already felt like an eternity had passed.

_He probably got tired of putting up with my anxiety._

That wasn’t true, and you knew it. You just hated waiting, sitting idly by while your friends fought. And it was making you bitchy.

“Hey.”

A soft voice roused you from your thoughts, and you looked up to see Bucky standing there with two steaming mugs. He looked pointedly at your bouncing leg.

“Here,” he said as he handed you one of the mugs. “I know you’re more of a coffee fan, but something tells me caffeine wouldn’t be a good idea right now. Herbal tea.”

You raised an eyebrow skeptically, and he scoffed. “It’s actually pretty good. Calming.”

“Really?”

“Works on me.” He sighed and sat next to you on the bench, and you instinctively leaned into him, already feeling soothed by his presence. “I’m not used to this either. The waiting.”

“…and the worrying.”

Bucky laughed softly. “ _That_ I’ve got quite a bit of experience with, you forget who I grew up with. I’m surprised I didn’t have an ulcer by the time I was twenty, the things Steve used to get himself into.”

You hummed and took a sip of your tea. Bucky was right—it was good, and it calmed your nerves a bit, although not as much as his presence did.

“Thank you, Bucky.”

He smiled, and you did to. “Anytime, doll.”

His smile widened as you tucked an arm around his waist, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. He tilted his head, and he laughed softly as his mouth shifted over yours. A sharp intake of breath as he caught your bottom lip between his teeth, before the kiss turned into something slower and sweeter.

Your cups of tea sat cooling on the bench, completely forgotten.

Minutes or seconds passed, you weren’t sure. Time seemed to stop whenever he kissed you. It was only an illusion, however—in other parts of the world, time ticked on as reality inevitably caught up to you both.

Shouting, coming from the front of the Sanctum.

Bucky was up like a shot, his body tense and alert as he grabbed your hand and pulled you behind him. His head cocked, listening as the shouting grew in intensity.

“Stay here.”

He started to pull away, but the glowing ropes you conjured wrapped around your wrists, binding the two of you together.

“Like hell,” you growled. “Where you go, I go. _You promised_.”

Bucky looked at you. Fear, panic, determination, pride, love—it all flashed across his eyes in an instant.

“I—”

“James.”

Bucky froze. You had never called him by his first name. Not ever.

“Okay.” Lips tightened into a thin line, and the fearful intensity of his gaze threatened to undermine your resolve. Then it hardened into something else, something you hadn’t seen since the tunnels.

“Let’s go.”

You followed him step for step, conjuring your twin shields as you both raced towards the grand staircase at the front of the Sanctum.

You heard the struggle before you saw it. A shifting of masonry, bending time and space as outsiders fought their way through the protective wards surrounding the Sanctum. Lucian and several Apprentices stood in a line, hexes whirling as they held them off.

You fell in line alongside your brothers and sisters.

Acolytes were attempting to break through, shifting reality almost as fast as you could block it. Through the opening in the center, a dark figure approached. Bucky drew down, firing into the center of the void, although it made little difference.

The figure reached up to the heavens and conjured a gigantic fireball, and Bucky reacted before you could.

“Get down!”

He roughly threw you to the floor, covering your body with his just as the figure slammed the fireball into the ground.

The world exploded.

“Bucky!”

Your ears were ringing. The air was thick with dust and reeked of sulfur, and you coughed thickly. Two strong hands lifted you up.

“Y/N!” Bucky gripped your shoulders, worriedly scanning for injuries. You staggered to your knees.

“I’m okay.”

There was a cut across his cheekbone and you were both covered in dust and debris, but otherwise unharmed.

Cold laughter froze you in place.

“Well, well, well.”

Boots crunched to a halt in the middle of the room, and your hands tightened around Bucky’s forearms as Gabriel strode into view.

Or, at least, what used to be Gabriel.

His eyes were dark horrors, the skin burned away around sockets that bored into your very soul, violating you. The same symbol as you’d seen on Kaecilius had been carved into his forehead, and he grinned with a devilish malevolence that made the hairs on the back of your neck bristle.

“Hey, darlin’…you miss me?”


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: TEMPORARY Major Character Death (Reader), Graphic Violence, Blood/Injury, Angst, Language
> 
> Series Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Depression, PTSD, References to Drug use, References to Rape/NonCon, Angst, Fluff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter took a while for me to get out, but the next one is almost done, it ends on a cliffhanger, I promise you won’t have to wait as long for the next chapter. Heed the warnings, and remember, time is relative in the Mystic Arts.

Bucky didn’t hesitate. There was no thought process, no decision made. In one smooth movement, he snatched his pistol from the floor and emptied the remainder of the clip into the smirking face. Ten feet away—almost point blank. He couldn’t miss.

A lazy flick of the wrist, and the bullets ricocheted harmlessly off the conjured Mandala.

“Yeah, bullets aren’t going to work against me,” Gabriel drawled. “You must be the infamous Bucky Barnes. Jesus, Y/N, talk about a step down—thought you could do better than a brain-dead cyborg.”

Bucky growled and took a step towards him, his expression thunderous, but he halted when you grabbed his arm.

Gabriel laughed. “Woah, there, Barnes—no hard feelings, man. I’m more than happy to let you have my sloppy seconds.”

“Shut up, Gabriel,” you snarled.

Nearly a dozen Zealots had gathered across the divide, both sides with shields raised and weapons conjured. You were woefully outnumbered.

“Still with the smart mouth, I see,” Gabriel said. “Even your super soldier boyfriend wasn’t able to tame you of that. It’s too bad, I guess I’ll just have to take another stab at it after we put his brain back through the blender. Don’t worry, Barnes, I’ll still let the Soldier have a ride from time to—”

The force of the combined hit from both you and Master Lucian knocked him back, the conjured Mirror Realm spreading between your outstretched hands like a blooming flower.

For all his newfound power, Gabriel was still a sucker for running his mouth.

What looked like a blade of pure glass sliced through the shifting prisms, and you felt the breach widen even as you tried to close it. Despite having fallen into the same old trap, Gabriel also had a few tricks up his sleeve.

Bucky had replaced his clip and was drawn down next to you, so close you could feel the heat from his body. You and Lucian worked to close the breach as more blades sliced through, but it was dark magic, something far beyond your skillset. Lucian saw the danger, and jerked his head towards Bucky.

“Barnes—take her and go! Get to the Rotunda of Gateways, make for the London Sanctum. We’ll hold them off as long as we can.”

You hesitated.

“Go!”

Bucky grabbed your hand, his face set as he nearly yanked you off your feet. You stumbled to regain your footing and closed your ears to the sounds of fighting below.

Up, up, up the grand staircase and then a sharp turn to the right. You knew the way well—Bucky had made you memorize the layout and map exit strategies the first week you were here.

A great rumble shook the Sanctum, and plaster rained down upon you both.

“There it is—go!”

Bucky propelled you ahead of him. You could see his gun was still out, covering your retreat as you skidded into the Rotunda.

He should have been looking ahead.

Just as you were about to pass through the Gateway, a Tao Mandala shimmered into view across the opening, and you ran into it full bore. The effect was something like running into a brick wall.

You rebounded off with a sickening smack and collapsed to the floor. The room spun dizzyingly as you tried to catch your breath, and you were dimly aware of Bucky gathering you up protectively.

“Nice try.” Gabriel stepped out of the adjacent doorway, one that hadn’t been there a moment ago. “Pretty cocky, thinking you knew all the secrets this place held—Master Kaecilius has spent a lot longer here than your precious Doctor Strange.”

He conjured his Eldritch Whip. “Now. We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. I don’t want to kill either of you.”

You struggled to your feet. “I won’t let you take him.”

“Darlin’, you don’t really have a choice.” The same translucent blade materialized in his other hand at the same time you raised your shields. “All right, hard way it is.”

A hand on your wrist. You glanced over at Bucky, and the look on his face sent your stomach straight to the floor.

“I’ll go,” he said, soft but deadly. “Take down the shield, let her pass through the Gateway unharmed, and I’ll go with you.”

“No!” The hand tightened on your wrist, and you hissed at him. “You promised!”

He was about to do something incredibly heroic, and stupid. You knew Bucky would do anything to keep you safe, but at the same time, you knew he would rather die than end up as a pawn for Hydra. Either way, he was prepared to go down swinging.

“I’m not gonna let you get hurt because of me,” he said. His eyes were still trained on Gabriel, but his voice was soft and full of regret.

“Well—isn’t that sweet? All right, metal man, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll let Y/N walk though that Gateway if you get down on your knees right now—”

“No. She goes first. Unharmed.”

“Kneel. Or I’ll take you both where you stand. And you _know_ someone’s gonna get hurt if we do it that way.”

The blade flashed as if in warning. Bucky started to lower himself to his knees.

“Sweetheart, please. Go stand over by the Gate, it’ll be okay, I prom—”

“You _promise_?! You promised you wouldn’t leave me!” Your voice was high and desperate. “I’m not going to let you throw away your life just to save me. I’m not going let them take you—”

Bucky rushed forward. Gabriel’s full attention had been on you and your outburst, and he was caught wholly unawares as Bucky slammed into his side, knocking him to the ground.

You had no idea Bucky could move that fast. A knife materialized in his hand, and he swiped at Gabriel, sending a fine spray of blood across the Rotunda. Spinning, twisting, Bucky pushed forward in a brutal onslaught that had Gabriel tripping back on his heels in effort to block.

Still, he wasn’t without his tricks. Gabriel’s whip rapped around Bucky’s arm and pulled him close just as the blade swung down towards the soldier’s throat.

Your hands flashed, your own shield slipping between the pair as you lashed out with your boot, connecting with Gabriel’s side and sending him reeling back. Bucky didn’t waste a second and was on him again, his metal arm grasping the sorcerer in a headlock.

Gabriel’s dark eyes flashed and he disappeared. Bucky fell forward, stumbling, and he yelled a warning as Gabriel appeared behind you.

You were ready for it though. Master Lucian had taught you that trick, and you quickly conjured the short khopesh sword you’d used before, swinging up towards his unprotected side.

_Wham!_

Gabriel hit you with a concentrated spell, knocking you across the room and sending you slamming into the stone wall.

Your ears were ringing. The taste of copper in your mouth, room spinning crazily on its axis. You heard Bucky scream your name, sounding like he was underwater and very, very far away. Rolling onto your side, your blinked dully as you watched Bucky rush at Gabriel.

Gabriel’s palm swung forward, and hit Bucky dead in the sternum.

Two glowing forms were knocked from his body, and Bucky hit the floor, unmoving and lifeless. Above the body, James Buchanan Barnes stared at you in horror, while the Winter Soldier looked on impassively.

Gabriel laughed darkly, and he advanced upon the twin souls.

Frantically, you tried to get to your knees, but it was like crawling through molasses. You couldn’t get a purchase on the rough stone, your head pounding and your limbs weak.

_Get up—get up! You have to stop him!_

James glared at Gabriel as he advanced. He was younger and smaller than the man you knew, but the rage on his face was the same. His feet were set and his hands curled into fists, and you got a glimpse of the man that used to stand side by side with Steve Rogers in the back alleys of Brooklyn, all those years ago. Facing down bullies, just like he was now.

He swung as Gabriel stepped into range, but his fist passed right through. A brief look of shock. He swung again. Preternaturally fast, Gabriel moved forward and caught him by the throat.

“Bucky!”

“You used to be quite the little scrapper, huh Barnes? Not so tough without the Soldier at your back though.” Gabriel lifted him off his feet. “I’m gonna enjoy this—let’s see if you taste as good as your little girlfriend.”

His hand tightened. James choked and began to struggle in his grip. Dark veins stood out against his glowing flesh, spreading up his throat and face. Behind him, the Winter Soldier stared blankly at the murderous scene and did nothing.

James started to scream.

Pain bloomed, though it was more of a suggestion than actually something you could feel. Gabriel was hurting him—you could feel it in your bones. He was extinguishing his light, and you rushed forward without thinking.

You heard it before you saw it, and raised your shield to block Gabriel’s spell. It ricocheted off, careening into a pillar and sending pulverized marble raining down on Bucky’s motionless body. You closed in on Gabriel, ducking under the next spell as you lashed out with your Eldritch whip.

It coiled around his ankle, and you yanked him off his feet. James fell to the floor heavily. Gabriel rolled to his feet and rushed at you, vaulting off of points in the air as he conjured his blade. You met him with raised shields, recoiling with the force of his blow.

From the floor, James murmured your name as he weakly tried to push himself to his feet. He was a shadow of his former self, though, lacking the resilience of the Soldier and weakened by Gabriel.

You tried to keep yourself positioned between the two. Twisting and spinning, every lesson from Bucky and Lucian coming to a head as you desperately tried to hold him off long enough for help to arrive.

A lucky hit knocked you off balance, and before you could react, a Tao Mandala spun at you, entrapping you against the wall. It was dark magic, glowing with a malevolent energy, and something you couldn’t break through.

“You’re more of a pain in the ass than I remembered,” Gabriel huffed as he stomped over to where James lay.

The Winter Soldier stepped in front of him.

Cold, expressionless eyes. Yet those eyes shifted from James to you, before settling on Gabriel.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.”

Hope sprang up as the Soldier moved forward, but it was dashed the next second as the his fist swung right through Gabriel, just as James’ had. He was an astral form, and for all his strength, he held no real power on this plane of existence. Gabriel knocked him out of the way like he was nothing.

It was up to you.

Never had you felt so helpless. You were only half a wizard, and barely out of SHIELD recruit training. The soul source of your powers lay in your Finding, which was utterly worthless to you right now.

Or was it?

You shut your ears against James’ screams, willing yourself to focus. To think.

Around your wrists, the Bracelets of Aspectu seemed to warm as if trying to tell you something, and Strange’s voice echoed in your mind.

 _“_ You _are the vessel—center yourself. Open your Eye and Find that which you seek.”_

James was starting to thrash wildly.

_What I seek._

_What I seek._

_I need to find Gabriel’s weakness…a way to destroy him…_

Sitting cross-legged on the ground, you took a deep breath, and opened your Eye.

Immediately, the dark soul mark on under your collarbone began to burn, and you groaned. Visions flew across your eyes, and you finally understood what you had to do.

Without hesitation, you conjured a small dagger, and plunged it into the center of the mark.

Gabriel screamed.

Brilliant, golden light shot out of the strange, carved marking on his forehead, spreading down his face in a series of cracks. He released James just as the Mandala disappeared, and he turned to you.

“You stupid bitch, you’ve killed yourself.” They were gasping, grating, _hateful_ final words from the man who’d caused you so much pain.

“Maybe,” you gasped, “but I’m taking you with me.”

You yanked the dagger free, dropping it at your feet.

It was sudden, and explosive. The cracks bled across his skin, consuming him with white fire until nothing remained of Gabriel but ash and the echoes of his screams.

Distantly, you heard James desperately calling your name. You ignored his cries as your visioned tunneled, the strength seeping out of you as quickly as the blood flowing from your wound. Stumbling forward, you fell to your knees beside Bucky’s prostate form.

You placed your hand on his chest, and said the incantation to return his souls to his body.

Then the darkness closed in, and you fell.

***

Bucky gasped awake. He was lying flat on his back, sweat and grit running in his eyes. There was a weight on his chest, and a spreading warmth. The pungent smell of copper.

“Y/N!”

She had collapsed across his body, her hand still on his chest from where she’d returned his souls to him. His navy shirt was already stained black with her blood.

“No! No, no, no, please—”

So much red. Spreading in a widening circle around her body.

Bucky pulled her in his arms, frantically trying to put pressure on her wound. It was horribly warm, pulsing up through his fingers and mocking his efforts as he tried to save her.

He saw the gravity of the wound. Knew she’d hit an artery. Vital lifeblood, spilling onto the floor because of him. Bucky was no stranger to fatal injuries, but although his head told him she only had moments left, his heart refused to believe it. 

“Why’d you do it?” he sobbed, “why’d you—”

“…save you. D-Dark soul mark…only way to stop him…”

Her throat worked and she clutched at him, mouthing his name. Bucky held her tightly and lied to her.

“D-Don’t try to talk, sweetheart, it’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna be—”

Boots scrabbled in the dirt, writhing. A tremor wracked her body.

“…B-Bucky…”

Gurgling, gasping. Trying to hold on for him as her vision narrowed and the cold set in. Bucky sobbed, pressing harder against the wound as her life seeped through his fingers.

“Just stay with me, sweetheart, please…please stay…please don’t leave me...”

Suddenly, he remembered the premonition.

Trembling hands. The tears fell harder now. She was dying in his arms, and they both knew it. Her eyes were dark embers, boring into him as she desperately tried to tell him she loved him one last time. Bucky clutched her tightly as if he could hold in her life with his bare hands.

“I love you Y/N, please don’t go. Please…”

Her eyes locked with his as her body went rigid, and the strength ran out of her like water. Bucky stiffened and his breath stilled. He watched the light leave her eyes, her hand slipping from his cheek and landing limply in the dirt.

Beneath his hand, the wound pulsed a final time, and went still.

Bucky stared at her for a long time, unable to think, to breathe, to move. It was all some kind of horrible trick, surely. Any second now she’d blink her eyes and laugh, smiling up at him and igniting the warmth she always brought to his soul.

Except he knew she wouldn’t. He’d felt something vital break inside him the second her heart stopped beating.

Slowly, as if it belonged to someone else, his hand reached up and gently closed her eyes. Fingers tenderly caressed her cheek, even as the warmth faded from her skin. Tears were falling in earnest now, but Bucky didn’t notice as he leaned down and kissed her, one last time.

Then he gathered her lifeless body in his arms, and wept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for the cliffhanger, feel free to yell at me in the comments (please be nice though). Remember the warnings, things are temporary. I know you guys had to wait awhile for this one, but I’m putting the final touches on the next chapter and hope to have it out on Saturday at the regular time. Thanks for reading!


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: TEMPORARY Major Character Death (Reader), Graphic Violence, Blood/Injury, Angst, Language, Fluff
> 
> Series Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Depression, PTSD, References to Drug use, References to Rape/NonCon, Angst, Fluff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Okay, so December is weird, my posting schedule is officially out the window. This chapter is done so I’m posting it, expect the epilogue tomorrow!

Sam raced up the stairs. Two by two, three by three—hell, he’d _fly_ up it if only the Sanctum’s staircase granted him the wingspan.

Too easy. It had been all too easy to locate Zemo, and that should have been his first clue. Y/N was good, but this wasn’t just anyone she was Finding, it was Kaecilius himself. He should have known it wasn’t going to be that easy.

The fight against Zemo had been nothing more than a distraction. A ruse. One that he didn’t think Zemo had been prepared to lose, but he’d severely underestimate the Avengers once again.

Strange and Kaecilius had tangled together, winking out of sight before Sam even had a chance to warn him, and then Zemo had come at him like a freight train. Sam was hurting, but with the evil mastermind cooling his heels in a set of vibranium cuffs, there was only one thought on his mind.

Bucky and Y/N.

If one of them got hurt, if he had to see Bucky transformed back into the Winter Soldier…or worse, if he got to the top of the stairs and found one of them dead—

No. Sam shook his head, spurring himself on. He’d already lost too many friends, and he refused to even let that thought take seed in his mind.

As soon as Wanda had Zemo in her grip and Sam heard the cuffs slam shut, he’d grabbed Wong, and the sight that met them as they stepped through the whirling sparks into the courtyard of the Sanctum sent his stomach plummeting to his shoes.

Lucian and a handful of Apprentices were still locked in combat with the Zealots, and as Wong raced to help, the Master had shouted to them.

“Gabriel’s gone! I sent them to the London Sanctum, but he went after them!”

“Top of the stairs to the right,” Wong urged Sam, “The Rotunda of Gateways—there’s a portal that will take you there. Hurry!”

_Why does everything here have to have a ridiculously complex name?_

The Rotunda wasn’t hard to find. Sam felt a wave of relief wash over him as he skidded through the archway, relief that turned to ice when he saw the figures huddled in the corner of the room.

Bucky was on his knees, cradling a body in his arms. A large pool of blood was spread out on the ground around him, glinting dully in the light. His back was to Sam, but he could see the body’s boots and Apprentice’s tunic, and he knew it was Y/N.

Then he saw Bucky reach up and close her eyes with a bloody, trembling hand, and he knew that she was dead.

_No. No, not her._

Sam felt his eyes start to burn, and he swallowed against the lump in his throat. Bucky’s shoulders shook and he held her tightly, his face pressed to her neck as he slowly rocked back and forth.

A horrible, low keening cry rose up, and Sam felt it go right through him. He could feel the depths of his friend’s grief, and when Bucky leaned down to kiss her, Sam had to look away. He wasn’t sure when the tears had started, but he was blinking them away now.

Footsteps mounting the stairs. Lucian appeared in the archway with Wong puffing behind, and the Master paled when he saw the scene. He whispered something to Wong and left, sprinting back down the hallway.

Sam didn’t know what to do. His mind flashed back to the day he lost Riley, and he knew there was nothing he could say, nothing he could do other than to just be there for his friend. Bucky flinched when he felt Sam touch his shoulder, and he let out a sound like a wounded animal.

Wong shifted uncomfortably, and cleared his throat. “Lucian’s gone to find Strange, he can help.”

Sam looked at him curiously, but he said nothing. Instead, he knelt down next to Bucky, trying to provide whatever comfort he could, which, at this point, wasn’t much.

He wasn’t sure how long they knelt there, but it was long enough for his legs to grow numb. Bucky eventually quieted, staring at Y/N as if in a trance as he gently caressed her face and hair.

Footsteps, quick and authoritative, and Sam looked up to see Strange enter the Rotunda. He looked a little worse for wear, but his eyes shone with urgency as he crouched down next to the grieving soldier.

“Barnes.” He reached out towards him, but Bucky jerked back and shielded her protectively.

“Don’t you touch her!” he growled, his eyes suddenly wild and feral.

“Barnes, I can help,” Strange said patiently. “You can keep holding her, just loosen your grasp a bit.”

“You can’t help her. No one can, you’re too late.”

The words were bitter, and cold. Strange ignored them, twisted his hands in front of the Amulet around his neck, drawing them apart and opening its center. Sam didn’t remember what the wizards called the Amulet, but hope suddenly shot through him when he recognized what it held.

The time stone.

Bucky was too far gone to realize what was happening, but he loosened his hold on Y/N as Strange drew the swirling green light up his arm, a mandala appearing in his hand. He lowered his hand, hovering an inch over the wound on her chest as he slowly twisted the mandala.

Sam gasped, and stared. He couldn’t help himself. Blood seemed to be flowing backwards in reverse, flowing back into the wound, and as he stared, color already beginning to return to return to her face.

Bucky’s eyes were as wide as saucers, and he didn’t seem to be breathing at all. The dark stain on his shirt was shrinking, the blood fading from his hands as it returned to where it belonged.

Then Y/N gasped, and her eyes opened.

***

You blinked, looking around in confusion. One second you had been dying, hearing Bucky’s tortured cries as you felt yourself go, and then…nothing. Darkness.

But it wasn’t dark anymore.

Two impossibly blue eyes, bloodshot and rimmed red from crying stared back at you.

“Bucky?”

He blinked, looking equally bewildered. Trembling hands tugged at the collar of your shirt, and you looked down.

The wound was gone. Healed as if it had never happened, nothing but smooth, unblemished skin where the soul mark once was. Bucky’s fingers brushed against the spot reverently.

Then he was grabbing you up, nearly crushing you with the force of his embrace. Shaking limbs, so strong, yet at the same time weak with fear and relief as he murmured your name over and over.

“You’re alive…you’re alive, I…why’d you do that? Why’d you—”

Tears rose unbidden. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Bucky. I had to, it was the only way. I had to stop him, I couldn’t let him take you.”

“I know,” Bucky hiccupped a laugh, and you knew it would be okay. “You’re so stupid. You’re so brave and wonderful and selfless and stupid and I love you so, so much.”

“I love you too.”

Slowly, you became aware that you’d both drawn an audience, but the thought was driven right out of your head the next moment as Bucky kissed you, and time stood still.

He tasted like salt and copper and was shaking uncontrollably. A hand cradled the back of your head, bringing you closer as he deepened the kiss, and he melted into you as he felt your hands cup his face, the shaking slowly subsiding.

Someone cleared their throat, and that drew you both back to your senses. Wong looked uncomfortable and Lucian’s face held a faint look of disapproval, but behind them Sam’s lips were pressed together in a watery but crooked smirk, and he nodded.

Bucky looked up at Strange. “Thank you. Thank you for saving her.”

“Time is relative,” Strange shrugged, “and I needed my Finder back.”

Bucky helped you to your feet, and you looked down to the ash pile that was all that remained of Gabriel. “It’s really over?”

“Zemo’s been recaptured, Gabriel is dead,” Strange nodded.

“And Kaecilius?” Bucky asked.

“Destroyed. I learned a thing or two from the last time.” He turned to you. “The threat is over, Master Y/L/N.”

“Master? But I…”

Bucky’s hand squeezed yours, and you looked between the three wizards. Wong was grinning, and even Lucian had cracked a smile. Strange nodded.

“Y/N, what you did, the control you displayed over your own power and the sacrifices you made in order to protect the world against a Mystical threat—you have more than earned that title.”

You were speechless. Bucky beamed down at you proudly, and you felt your heart was about to burst.

“So, does this mean my training is over? We can—”

“Your training is never over,” Strange corrected, “but I don’t see any reason you have to stay here anymore. In fact…”

He looked over at Sam. “In light of recent events, I think it would be a good idea if we worked a little more closely with the Avengers in the future. Captain Wilson, with your permission, I’d like to suggest that Master Y/L/N be assigned to the Avengers as a liaison, and so she can help guide other wayward individuals with talent in the Mystic Arts…if you’ll have her, that is.”

Sam clapped a hand on your shoulder, looked from you to Bucky, and nodded.

“She’s already one of us.”


	26. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't help myself, I used some of the ideas/scenes from the new TFATWS trailer. Enjoy!

From CNN News Center in New York:

_“…The scandal surrounding former Secretary Thaddeus Ross continues to rock the nation as new evidence was brought forth today in the indictment against him. The new evidence, supplied by SHIELD Agent Sharon Carter, was enough to negate Ross’ bid for the White House and cost him his position as Secretary of Defense. The evidence also brought to light several criminal acts, and the board voted unanimously to press criminal charges, citing Ross’ crimes against the United States…”_

From NBC-4 in Washington, D.C.:

_“…In other news, international criminal Helmut Zemo was transferred to the Raft early this morning, where he will remain incarcerated indefinitely. The transfer was completed by the newly-reinstated Avengers…”_

From FOX-5 in New York City:

_“…and while the collapse of the criminal organization known as Hydra and it’s shockingly widespread infiltration into American politics have left the nation reeling, supporters for the Avengers were out in force tonight in an overwhelming show of unity. The controversial group of enhanced individuals has been under intense scrutiny in recent months, but it seems, for now, that public opinion has swung once again in their favor…”_

From ABC-7 in Washington D.C.:

_“…Samuel Wilson, who recently donned the mantle of Captain America, was available tonight for comment:_

_‘In the wake of this new scandal and the aftermath of the Snap, the world is upside down. People need something to get behind. They need a symbol. The Avengers have been that symbol for over seventy years, and we will continue to be that light in the darkness, even when all hope seems lost. This shield may pass from hand to hand, faces may come and go, but the message is still the same—we will always be there to stand up for what’s right.’”_

**Three months later**

“We’ve got confirmation from HQ, sir—they’re somewhere down in this valley, but with all these caves it’s going to be had to find them,” the airman shouted.

“Don’t worry--already got somebody on it.”

Sam looked over to where you were seated on the floor of the C-130, motionless except for the gentle sway of the aircraft. Several minutes passed before your eyes snapped open and you stood.

“Southeast edge of the valley, looks like what’s left of an abandoned village,” you shouted over the roar of the engines.

Sam looked at you. “Army cleared that village weeks ago.”

“They’re not in the village, they’re under it.”

You gave Bucky a knowing look, and he groaned.

“Great—more tunnels.”

Sam left to go talk to the pilots, and you braced yourself against Bucky as the plane banked sharply to the left, following the new coordinates. Bucky wrapped both arms around you, pulled you backwards against his chest, and pressed a kiss along your jawline.

“Just like old times, huh?”

“God, I hope not,” you said. “I’d prefer to get through this with both of us intact this time.”

Bucky laughed and kissed you again, stealing an appreciative glance down at your new uniform. A cross between your old SHIELD uniform and your Apprentice robes, the form-fitting suit gave you a bit of a tactical advantage over your old uniform and most importantly of all—it wasn’t itchy.

“I like the new look. It suits you.”

You rolled your eyes. “You just like how tight it is.”

“Among other things,” he said with a sly grin.

“Hate to break up the lovefest, but we’ve got company.” Sam was striding back into the cargo bay, tugging on his goggles. You both looked out the open door, and saw two helicopters approaching.

“So what’s our plan?” Bucky shouted.

Sam just stared at him, an amused smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. He walked over to the open cargo door.

“So, no plan.” Bucky scowled and sat down, leaning against the cargo net.

Sam’s smirk widened, and he leaned out the open door.

“Hey—”

Then he stepped out, wings unfurling far below the plane.

“Great.”

You chuckled at his frustration, watching Sam dip and soar through the valley.

“It wasn’t funny back when Steve used to do it, and it’s not funny now,” Bucky grumbled. You both watched from the open door as Sam dodged incoming fire, swooping down towards the abandoned village.

“I suppose we should go give him a hand,” you said. “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be, doll.” Bucky pulled you into a searing kiss. “I love you.”

One hand cupped his jaw, and you murmured against his lips. “I love you too, Bucky.”

He stood back as you raised your sling ring and conjured a portal that would put you out on the valley floor, about a quarter mile above the village. In the distance, you saw an explosion as one of the helicopters crashed, and the other began to belch heavy smoke from its turbine.

You both stepped up to the ring of sparks. Bucky took your hand, and you smiled up at him.

Together, you stepped through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: GAH! It’s done! Thank you to everyone that stuck with this one, thank you for reading and all your comments and kudos! You guys are the best!!!

**Author's Note:**

> This is post-endgame, and since we don't really know yet what the new Falcon/Winter Soldier Avengers are going to look like yet, I decided just to run with what we've seen in the trailer so far.
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr @constantwriter85


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